To An Astrologer
Nay, seer, I do not doubt thy mystic lore,
Nor question that the tenor of my life,
Past, present and the future is revealed
There in thy horoscope: I do believe
That yon dead Moon compels the haughty seas
To ebb and flow, and that my natal star
Stands like a stern-browed sentinel in space
And challenges events; nor lets one grief
Or joy, or favor, or success pass on
To mar or bless my earthly lot, until
It proves its fated right to come to me
All this I grant; but more than this I know:
Before the Solar Systems were conceived,
When nothing was but the unnameable,
My spirit lived, an atom of the Cause.
Through countless ages, and in many forms
It has existed, ere it entered in
This human form to serve its little day
Upon the Earth; the deathless Me of me
The spark from that all-creative fire
Is part of that eternal source called GOD,
And Mightier than the universe. Why he
Who knows, and knowing never once forgets
The pedigree divine of his soul,
Can conquer, shape and govern destiny
And use vast space as 'twere a board for chess
With stars for pawns; can change his horoscope
to suit his will; turn failure to success,
And from preordained sorrow harvest hoy.
There is no puny planet, Sun or Moon
Or zodiacal sign which can control
The God in us! If we bring that to bear
Upon events, we mold them to our wish;
'Tis when the Infinite 'neath the finite gropes
That men are governed by their horoscopes.
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