XLVII*
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As the Sea’s self should heed a pebble-cast.
XLVIII*
A Moment’s Halt — a momentary taste
Of BEING from the Well amid the Waste —
And Lo! — the phantom Caravan has reacht
The NOTHING it set out from — Oh, make haste!
XLIX*
Would you that spangle of Existence spend
About THE SECRET — quick about it, Friend!
A Hair perhaps divides the False and True,
And upon what, prithee, does life depend?
L*
A Hair perhaps divides the False and True;
Yes; and a single Alif were the clue —
Could you but find it — to the Treasure-house,
And peradventure to THE MASTER too;