Enemy of my inward night

and victor of its bestial Signs

whose arm against the Bull designs

the red veronicas of light:

your cape a roaring gale of gold

in furious auroras swirled,

the scarlet of its outward fold

is of a dawn beyond the world—

a sky of intellectual fire

through which the stricken beast may view

its final agony aspire

to sun the broad æolian blue—

my own lit heart, its rays of fire,

the seven swords that run it through.