What is this message lodged in this world?
Candid writing, Art read in this century,
To love spelling its Hermes.
A given hidden word was the germ for you.
You made a word of exile, this pure Helijah.
Oh, frost of miser, void of pure Art!
To my deadly ruse was owed, says this Devil,
This tree in its winter.
There, man erred in frost.
Rare Art preached to the idiot,
Exile dreamed its fraud.
What feels this awakening?
In your wise manna
Spring is shown to you
Which awakens Brother Mat
To the creative age.
What writes here this book read in living study?
A pure Ave.
Dowry to that Art:
Pot of golden salt healing all.
Oh! What a rediscovered message
To read here, in our school!
In such a book, denied gold,
In a study of pure sense spelling itself at length.
Oh, pure Sun, oh, holy destiny of an Osiris!
