EDITORIAL NOTE TO POETRY

So would I die As then I saw him die, Victorious and destroying. THE BEACON Here, where the island grew amid the seas, A sacrificial rock high-towering, Here under darkling heavens, Zarathustra lights his mountain-fires, A beacon for ships that have strayed, A beacon for them that have an answer!... These flames with grey-white belly, In cold distances sparkle their desire, Stretches its neck towards ever purer heights— A snake upreared in impatience: This signal I set up there before me. This flame is mine own soul, Insatiable for new distances, Speeding upward, upward its silent heat. Why flew Zarathustra from beasts and men? Why fled he swift from all continents?