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From the Collected Poems of C.S.Lewis

‘Set on the soul’s acropolis the reason stands

A virgin arm’d, commercing with celestial light,

And he who sins against her has defiled his own

Virginity: no cleansing makes his garment white;

So clear is reason. But how dark, imagining,

Warm, dark, obscure and infinite, daughter of Night:

Dark is her brow, the beauty of her eyes with sleep

Is loaded, and her pains are long, and her delight.

Tempt not Athene. Wound not in her fertile pains

Demeter, nor rebel against he mother-right.

Oh who will reconcile in me both maid and mother,

Who make me in a concord of the depth and height?

Who make imagination’s dim exploring touch

Ever report the same as intellectual sight?

Then could I truly say and not deceive,

Then wholly say that I BELIEVE’.

Take note of the upcoming March 25 lecture by Jason Lepojarvi of Oxford

Agape Versus Eros: C.S. Lewis and Anders Nygren on the Meaning of Love

Woodward (IRC) Room 1 (4:00 p.m.)