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Raspail
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Ver Sacrum
Silenced land of the passage
Campfire on the fields
Sit with me on the grass
Left your gift on your side
Can you hear the call of the streams?
The times of slumber are gone
Back here
This was your time
From where you come
Black there
Is what you leave?
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This was your time
From where you come
This crown id made of flesh
Thorns pierce my soul
'Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards
And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards
Come with trumpets sounding shrill
Over the hill! Over the hill!'
(A. Crowley)
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