EARLIER POEMS

I have heard the GodsIn their high conferenceAs I lay outside the worldQuiet in sleep....Fragment.

I have heard the Gods

In their high conference

As I lay outside the world

Quiet in sleep....

Fragment.

He was an artist and a dreamer—that is, one whose delight in the beauty of life was an effective obstacle to the achievement of the joy of living.

(Circa 1913.)

EXPRESSION

Call—call—and bruise the air:Shatter dumb space!Yea! We will fling this passion everywhere;Leaving no placeFor the superb and graveMagnificent throng,The pregnant queens of quietness that braveAnd edge our songOf wonder at the light(Our life-leased home),Of greeting to our housemates. And in mightOur song shall roamLife’s heart, a blossoming fireBlown bright by thought,While gleams and fades the infinite desire,Phantasmed naught.Can this be caught and caged?Wings can be cliptOf eagles, the sun’s gaudy measure gauged,But no sense diptIn the mystery of sense:The troubled throngOf words break out like smothered fire through denseAnd smouldering wrong.

Call—call—and bruise the air:Shatter dumb space!Yea! We will fling this passion everywhere;Leaving no place

Call—call—and bruise the air:

Shatter dumb space!

Yea! We will fling this passion everywhere;

Leaving no place

For the superb and graveMagnificent throng,The pregnant queens of quietness that braveAnd edge our song

For the superb and grave

Magnificent throng,

The pregnant queens of quietness that brave

And edge our song

Of wonder at the light(Our life-leased home),Of greeting to our housemates. And in mightOur song shall roam

Of wonder at the light

(Our life-leased home),

Of greeting to our housemates. And in might

Our song shall roam

Life’s heart, a blossoming fireBlown bright by thought,While gleams and fades the infinite desire,Phantasmed naught.

Life’s heart, a blossoming fire

Blown bright by thought,

While gleams and fades the infinite desire,

Phantasmed naught.

Can this be caught and caged?Wings can be cliptOf eagles, the sun’s gaudy measure gauged,But no sense dipt

Can this be caught and caged?

Wings can be clipt

Of eagles, the sun’s gaudy measure gauged,

But no sense dipt

In the mystery of sense:The troubled throngOf words break out like smothered fire through denseAnd smouldering wrong.

In the mystery of sense:

The troubled throng

Of words break out like smothered fire through dense

And smouldering wrong.

FROM “NIGHT AND DAY”

Dim watery lights gleaming on gibbering faces,Faces speechful, barren of soul and sordid,Huddled and chewing a jest, lewd and gabbled insidious:Laughter, born of its dung, flashes and floods like sunlight,Filling the room with a sense of a soul lethargic and kindly,Touches my soul with a pathos, a hint of a wide desolation.

Dim watery lights gleaming on gibbering faces,

Faces speechful, barren of soul and sordid,

Huddled and chewing a jest, lewd and gabbled insidious:

Laughter, born of its dung, flashes and floods like sunlight,

Filling the room with a sense of a soul lethargic and kindly,

Touches my soul with a pathos, a hint of a wide desolation.

I saw the face of God to-day,I heard the music of His smile,And yet I was not far away,And yet in Paradise the while.I lay upon the sparkling grass,And God’s own mouth was kissing me,And there was nothing that did passBut blazed with divinity.Divine—divine—upon my eyes,Upon mine hair—divine—divine,The fervour of the golden skies,The ardent gaze of God on mine.

I saw the face of God to-day,I heard the music of His smile,And yet I was not far away,And yet in Paradise the while.

I saw the face of God to-day,

I heard the music of His smile,

And yet I was not far away,

And yet in Paradise the while.

I lay upon the sparkling grass,And God’s own mouth was kissing me,And there was nothing that did passBut blazed with divinity.

I lay upon the sparkling grass,

And God’s own mouth was kissing me,

And there was nothing that did pass

But blazed with divinity.

Divine—divine—upon my eyes,Upon mine hair—divine—divine,The fervour of the golden skies,The ardent gaze of God on mine.

Divine—divine—upon my eyes,

Upon mine hair—divine—divine,

The fervour of the golden skies,

The ardent gaze of God on mine.

Then spake I to the tree,“Were ye your own desireWhat is it ye would be?”Answered the tree to me,“I am my own desire,I am what I would be.“If you were your desireWould you lie under me,And see me as you see?”“I am my own desireWhile I lie under you,And that which I would beDesire will sing to you.”

Then spake I to the tree,“Were ye your own desireWhat is it ye would be?”

Then spake I to the tree,

“Were ye your own desire

What is it ye would be?”

Answered the tree to me,“I am my own desire,I am what I would be.

Answered the tree to me,

“I am my own desire,

I am what I would be.

“If you were your desireWould you lie under me,And see me as you see?”

“If you were your desire

Would you lie under me,

And see me as you see?”

“I am my own desireWhile I lie under you,And that which I would beDesire will sing to you.”

“I am my own desire

While I lie under you,

And that which I would be

Desire will sing to you.”

I wander—I wander—O will she wander hereWhere’er my footsteps carry me I know that she is near,A jewelled lamp within her hand and jewels in her hair;I lost her in a vision once and seek her everywhere.My spirit whispers she is near, I look at you and you:Surely she has not passed me, I sleeping as she flew.I wander—I wander, and yet she is not here,Although my spirit whispers to me that she is near.

I wander—I wander—O will she wander here

Where’er my footsteps carry me I know that she is near,

A jewelled lamp within her hand and jewels in her hair;

I lost her in a vision once and seek her everywhere.

My spirit whispers she is near, I look at you and you:Surely she has not passed me, I sleeping as she flew.I wander—I wander, and yet she is not here,Although my spirit whispers to me that she is near.

My spirit whispers she is near, I look at you and you:

Surely she has not passed me, I sleeping as she flew.

I wander—I wander, and yet she is not here,

Although my spirit whispers to me that she is near.

ZION[3]

She stood—a hill-ensceptred Queen,The glory streaming from her;While Heaven flashed her rays between,And shed eternal summer.The gates of morning opened wideOn sunny dome and steeple;Noon gleamed upon the mountain-sideThronged with a happy people;And twilight’s drowsy, half closed eyesBeheld that virgin splendourWhose orbs were as her darkening skies,And as her spirit, tender.Girt with that strength, first-born of right,Held fast by deeds of honour,Her robe she wove with rays more brightThan Heaven could rain upon her.

She stood—a hill-ensceptred Queen,The glory streaming from her;While Heaven flashed her rays between,And shed eternal summer.

She stood—a hill-ensceptred Queen,

The glory streaming from her;

While Heaven flashed her rays between,

And shed eternal summer.

The gates of morning opened wideOn sunny dome and steeple;Noon gleamed upon the mountain-sideThronged with a happy people;

The gates of morning opened wide

On sunny dome and steeple;

Noon gleamed upon the mountain-side

Thronged with a happy people;

And twilight’s drowsy, half closed eyesBeheld that virgin splendourWhose orbs were as her darkening skies,And as her spirit, tender.

And twilight’s drowsy, half closed eyes

Beheld that virgin splendour

Whose orbs were as her darkening skies,

And as her spirit, tender.

Girt with that strength, first-born of right,Held fast by deeds of honour,Her robe she wove with rays more brightThan Heaven could rain upon her.

Girt with that strength, first-born of right,

Held fast by deeds of honour,

Her robe she wove with rays more bright

Than Heaven could rain upon her.

3. Written at the age of sixteen.

Where is that light—that citadel?That robe with woof of glory?She lost her virtue and she fell,And only left her story.

Where is that light—that citadel?

That robe with woof of glory?

She lost her virtue and she fell,

And only left her story.

SPIRITUAL ISOLATION: A FRAGMENT

My Maker shunneth me:Even as a wretch stricken with leprosy,So hold I pestilent supremacy.Yea! He hath fled far as the uttermost star,Beyond the unperturbed fastnesses of nightAnd dreams that bastioned areBy fretted towers of sleep that scare His light.Of wisdom writ, wheretoMy burdened feet may haste withouten rue,I may not spell—and I am sore to do.Yea, all (seeing my Maker hath such dread),Even mine own self-love, wists not but to flyTo Him, and sore bespedLeaves me, its captain, in such mutiny.Will, deemed incorporateWith me, hath flown ere love, to expiateIts sinful stay where He did habitate.Ah me, if they had left a sepulchre;But no—the light hath changed not, and in itOf its same colour stirSpirits I see not but phantasmed feel to flit.Air, legioned with such, stirreth,So that I seem to draw them with my breath,Ghouls that devour each joy they do to death,Strange glimmering griefs and sorrowing silencesBearing dead flowers unseen whose charnel smellGreat awe to my sense isEven in the rose-time when all else is well.

My Maker shunneth me:

Even as a wretch stricken with leprosy,

So hold I pestilent supremacy.

Yea! He hath fled far as the uttermost star,

Beyond the unperturbed fastnesses of night

And dreams that bastioned are

By fretted towers of sleep that scare His light.

Of wisdom writ, wheretoMy burdened feet may haste withouten rue,I may not spell—and I am sore to do.Yea, all (seeing my Maker hath such dread),Even mine own self-love, wists not but to flyTo Him, and sore bespedLeaves me, its captain, in such mutiny.

Of wisdom writ, whereto

My burdened feet may haste withouten rue,

I may not spell—and I am sore to do.

Yea, all (seeing my Maker hath such dread),

Even mine own self-love, wists not but to fly

To Him, and sore besped

Leaves me, its captain, in such mutiny.

Will, deemed incorporateWith me, hath flown ere love, to expiateIts sinful stay where He did habitate.Ah me, if they had left a sepulchre;But no—the light hath changed not, and in itOf its same colour stirSpirits I see not but phantasmed feel to flit.

Will, deemed incorporate

With me, hath flown ere love, to expiate

Its sinful stay where He did habitate.

Ah me, if they had left a sepulchre;

But no—the light hath changed not, and in it

Of its same colour stir

Spirits I see not but phantasmed feel to flit.

Air, legioned with such, stirreth,So that I seem to draw them with my breath,Ghouls that devour each joy they do to death,Strange glimmering griefs and sorrowing silencesBearing dead flowers unseen whose charnel smellGreat awe to my sense isEven in the rose-time when all else is well.

Air, legioned with such, stirreth,

So that I seem to draw them with my breath,

Ghouls that devour each joy they do to death,

Strange glimmering griefs and sorrowing silences

Bearing dead flowers unseen whose charnel smell

Great awe to my sense is

Even in the rose-time when all else is well.

FAR AWAY

By what pale light or moon-pale shoreDrifts my soul in lonely flight?Regions God had floated o’erEre He touched the world with light?Not in Heaven and not in earthIs this water, is this moon;For there is no starry birth,And no dawning and no noon.Far away—O far away,Mist-born—dewy vapours riseFrom the dim gates of the dayFar below in earthly skies.

By what pale light or moon-pale shoreDrifts my soul in lonely flight?Regions God had floated o’erEre He touched the world with light?

By what pale light or moon-pale shore

Drifts my soul in lonely flight?

Regions God had floated o’er

Ere He touched the world with light?

Not in Heaven and not in earthIs this water, is this moon;For there is no starry birth,And no dawning and no noon.

Not in Heaven and not in earth

Is this water, is this moon;

For there is no starry birth,

And no dawning and no noon.

Far away—O far away,Mist-born—dewy vapours riseFrom the dim gates of the dayFar below in earthly skies.

Far away—O far away,

Mist-born—dewy vapours rise

From the dim gates of the day

Far below in earthly skies.

SPRING

I walk and I wonderTo hear the birds sing;Without you, my lady,How can there be Spring?I see the pink blossomsThat slept for a year,But who could have waked themWhile you were not near?Birds sing to the blossoms,Blind, dreaming your pink;These blush to the songsters,Your music they think:So well had you taught themTo look and to sing,Your bloom and your music,The ways of the Spring.

I walk and I wonderTo hear the birds sing;Without you, my lady,How can there be Spring?I see the pink blossomsThat slept for a year,But who could have waked themWhile you were not near?

I walk and I wonder

To hear the birds sing;

Without you, my lady,

How can there be Spring?

I see the pink blossoms

That slept for a year,

But who could have waked them

While you were not near?

Birds sing to the blossoms,Blind, dreaming your pink;These blush to the songsters,Your music they think:So well had you taught themTo look and to sing,Your bloom and your music,The ways of the Spring.

Birds sing to the blossoms,

Blind, dreaming your pink;

These blush to the songsters,

Your music they think:

So well had you taught them

To look and to sing,

Your bloom and your music,

The ways of the Spring.

SONG

A silver rose to showIs your sweet face;And like the heavens’ white brow,Sometime God’s battle-place,Your blood is quiet now.Your body is a starUnto my thought;But stars are not too far,And can be caught—Small pools their prisons are.

A silver rose to showIs your sweet face;And like the heavens’ white brow,Sometime God’s battle-place,Your blood is quiet now.

A silver rose to show

Is your sweet face;

And like the heavens’ white brow,

Sometime God’s battle-place,

Your blood is quiet now.

Your body is a starUnto my thought;But stars are not too far,And can be caught—Small pools their prisons are.

Your body is a star

Unto my thought;

But stars are not too far,

And can be caught—

Small pools their prisons are.

HEART’S FIRST WORD. I.

To sweeten a swift minute soWith such rare fragrance of sweet speech,And make the after hours goIn a blank yearning each on each;To drain the springs till they be dry,And then in anguish thirst for drink;So but to glimpse her robe thirst I,And my soul hungers and I sink.There is no word that we have saidWhereby the lips and heart are fire;No look the linked glances readThat held the springs of deep desire.And yet the sounds her glad lips gaveAre on my soul vibrating still;Her eyes that swept me as a waveShine my soul’s worship to fulfil.Her hair, her eyes, her throat and chin—Sweet hair, sweet eyes, sweet throat, so sweet,So fair because the ways of sinHave never known her perfect feet—By what far ways and marvellousMay I such lovely heaven reach?What dread, dark seas and perilousLie ’twixt love’s silence and love’s speech?

To sweeten a swift minute so

With such rare fragrance of sweet speech,

And make the after hours go

In a blank yearning each on each;

To drain the springs till they be dry,

And then in anguish thirst for drink;

So but to glimpse her robe thirst I,

And my soul hungers and I sink.

There is no word that we have saidWhereby the lips and heart are fire;No look the linked glances readThat held the springs of deep desire.And yet the sounds her glad lips gaveAre on my soul vibrating still;Her eyes that swept me as a waveShine my soul’s worship to fulfil.

There is no word that we have said

Whereby the lips and heart are fire;

No look the linked glances read

That held the springs of deep desire.

And yet the sounds her glad lips gave

Are on my soul vibrating still;

Her eyes that swept me as a wave

Shine my soul’s worship to fulfil.

Her hair, her eyes, her throat and chin—Sweet hair, sweet eyes, sweet throat, so sweet,So fair because the ways of sinHave never known her perfect feet—By what far ways and marvellousMay I such lovely heaven reach?What dread, dark seas and perilousLie ’twixt love’s silence and love’s speech?

Her hair, her eyes, her throat and chin—

Sweet hair, sweet eyes, sweet throat, so sweet,

So fair because the ways of sin

Have never known her perfect feet—

By what far ways and marvellous

May I such lovely heaven reach?

What dread, dark seas and perilous

Lie ’twixt love’s silence and love’s speech?

HEARTS FIRST WORD. II.

And all her soft dark hairBreathed for him like a prayer,And her white lost faceWas prisoned to some far place.Love was not denied—Love’s ends would hide,And flower and fruit and treeWere under its sea.Yea, its abundance kneltWhere the nerves feltThe springs of feeling flowAnd made pain grow!There seemed no root or sky,But a pent infinityWhere apparitions dimSculptured each whimIn flame and wandering mistOf kisses to be kist.

And all her soft dark hair

Breathed for him like a prayer,

And her white lost face

Was prisoned to some far place.

Love was not denied—

Love’s ends would hide,

And flower and fruit and tree

Were under its sea.

Yea, its abundance knelt

Where the nerves felt

The springs of feeling flow

And made pain grow!

There seemed no root or sky,

But a pent infinity

Where apparitions dim

Sculptured each whim

In flame and wandering mist

Of kisses to be kist.

LADY, YOU ARE MY GOD

Lady, you are my God—Lady, you are my Heaven.If I am your GodLabour for your Heaven.Lady, you are my God,And shall not love win Heaven?If love made me GodDeeds must win my Heaven.If my love made you God,What more can I for Heaven?

Lady, you are my God—Lady, you are my Heaven.

Lady, you are my God—

Lady, you are my Heaven.

If I am your GodLabour for your Heaven.

If I am your God

Labour for your Heaven.

Lady, you are my God,And shall not love win Heaven?

Lady, you are my God,

And shall not love win Heaven?

If love made me GodDeeds must win my Heaven.

If love made me God

Deeds must win my Heaven.

If my love made you God,What more can I for Heaven?

If my love made you God,

What more can I for Heaven?

IF YOU ARE FIRE

If you are fire and I am fire,Who blows the flame apartSo that desire eludes desireAround one central heart?A single root and separate bough,And what blind hands betweenThat make our longing’s mutual glowAs if it had not been?

If you are fire and I am fire,Who blows the flame apartSo that desire eludes desireAround one central heart?

If you are fire and I am fire,

Who blows the flame apart

So that desire eludes desire

Around one central heart?

A single root and separate bough,And what blind hands betweenThat make our longing’s mutual glowAs if it had not been?

A single root and separate bough,

And what blind hands between

That make our longing’s mutual glow

As if it had not been?

IN THE UNDERWORLD

I have lived in the underworld so long:How can you, a creature of light,Without terror understand the songAnd unmoved hear what moves in night?I am a spirit that yours has found,Strange, undelightful, obscure,Created by some other God, and boundIn terrible darkness, breathing breath impure.Creature of light and happiness,Deeper the darkness was when you,With your bright terror eddying the distress,Grazed the dark waves and shivering further flew.

I have lived in the underworld so long:How can you, a creature of light,Without terror understand the songAnd unmoved hear what moves in night?

I have lived in the underworld so long:

How can you, a creature of light,

Without terror understand the song

And unmoved hear what moves in night?

I am a spirit that yours has found,Strange, undelightful, obscure,Created by some other God, and boundIn terrible darkness, breathing breath impure.

I am a spirit that yours has found,

Strange, undelightful, obscure,

Created by some other God, and bound

In terrible darkness, breathing breath impure.

Creature of light and happiness,Deeper the darkness was when you,With your bright terror eddying the distress,Grazed the dark waves and shivering further flew.

Creature of light and happiness,

Deeper the darkness was when you,

With your bright terror eddying the distress,

Grazed the dark waves and shivering further flew.

O, IN A WORLD OF MEN AND WOMEN

O, in a world of men and women,Where all things seemed so strange to me,And speech the common world called humanFor me was a vain mimicry,I thought—O, am I one in sorrow?Or is the world more quick to hideTheir pain with raiment that they borrowFrom pleasure in the house of pride?O joy of mine, O longed-for stranger,How I would greet you if you came:In the world’s joys I’ve been a ranger,In my world sorrow is their name.

O, in a world of men and women,Where all things seemed so strange to me,And speech the common world called humanFor me was a vain mimicry,

O, in a world of men and women,

Where all things seemed so strange to me,

And speech the common world called human

For me was a vain mimicry,

I thought—O, am I one in sorrow?Or is the world more quick to hideTheir pain with raiment that they borrowFrom pleasure in the house of pride?

I thought—O, am I one in sorrow?

Or is the world more quick to hide

Their pain with raiment that they borrow

From pleasure in the house of pride?

O joy of mine, O longed-for stranger,How I would greet you if you came:In the world’s joys I’ve been a ranger,In my world sorrow is their name.

O joy of mine, O longed-for stranger,

How I would greet you if you came:

In the world’s joys I’ve been a ranger,

In my world sorrow is their name.

A GIRL’S THOUGHTS

Dim apprehension of a trustComes over me this quiet hour,As though the silence were a flower,And this, its perfume, dark like dust.My individual self would clingThrough fear, through pride, unto its fears:It strives to shut out what it hears,The founts of being murmuring.O! Need, whose hauntings terrorize;Whether my maiden ways would hide,Or lose and to that need subside,Life shrinks and instinct dreads surprise.

Dim apprehension of a trustComes over me this quiet hour,As though the silence were a flower,And this, its perfume, dark like dust.

Dim apprehension of a trust

Comes over me this quiet hour,

As though the silence were a flower,

And this, its perfume, dark like dust.

My individual self would clingThrough fear, through pride, unto its fears:It strives to shut out what it hears,The founts of being murmuring.

My individual self would cling

Through fear, through pride, unto its fears:

It strives to shut out what it hears,

The founts of being murmuring.

O! Need, whose hauntings terrorize;Whether my maiden ways would hide,Or lose and to that need subside,Life shrinks and instinct dreads surprise.

O! Need, whose hauntings terrorize;

Whether my maiden ways would hide,

Or lose and to that need subside,

Life shrinks and instinct dreads surprise.

A BALLAD OF WHITECHAPEL

God’s mercy shines;And our full hearts must make record of this,For grief that burst from out its dark confinesInto strange sunlit bliss.I stood where glowedThe merry glare of golden whirring lightsAbove the monstrous mass that seethed and flowedThrough one of London’s nights.I watched the gleamsOf jagged warm lights on shrunk faces pale:I heard mad laughter as one hears in dreamsOr Hell’s harsh lurid tale.The traffic rolled,A gliding chaos populous of din,A steaming wail at doom the Lord had scrawledFor perilous loads of sin.And my soul thought:“What fearful land have my steps wandered to?God’s love is everywhere, but here is naughtSave love His anger slew.”And as I stoodLost in promiscuous bewilderment,Which to my mazèd soul was wonder-food,A girl in garments rentPeered ’neath lids shamedAnd spoke to me and murmured to my blood.My soul stopped dead, and all my horror flamedAt her forgot of God.Her hungered eyes,Craving and yet so sadly spiritual,Shone like the unsmirched corner of a jewelWhere else foul blemish lies.I walked with herBecause my heart thought, “Here the soul is clean,The fragrance of the frankincense and myrrhIs lost in odours mean.”She told me howThe shadow of black death had newly comeAnd touched her father, mother, even nowGrim-hovering in her home,Where fevered layHer wasting brother in a cold, bleak room,Which theirs would be no longer than a day,And then—the streets and doom.Lord! Lord! Dear Lord!I knew that life was bitter, but my soulRecoiled, as anguish-smitten by sharp sword,Grieving such body’s dole.Then grief gave placeTo a strange pulsing rapture as she spoke;For I could catch the glimpses of God’s grace,And a desire awokeTo take this trustAnd warm and gladden it with love’s new fires,Burning the past to ashes and to dustThrough purified desires.We walked our way,One way hewn for us from the birth of Time;For we had wandered into Love’s strange climeThrough ways sin waits to slay.Love’s euphony,In Love’s own temple that is our glad hearts,Makes now long music wild deliciously;Now Grief hath used his darts.Love infinite,Chastened by sorrow, hallowed by pure flame—Not all the surging world can compass it.Love—Love—O tremulous name!God’s mercy shines;And my full heart hath made record of this,Of grief that burst from out its dark confinesInto strange sunlit bliss.

God’s mercy shines;And our full hearts must make record of this,For grief that burst from out its dark confinesInto strange sunlit bliss.

God’s mercy shines;

And our full hearts must make record of this,

For grief that burst from out its dark confines

Into strange sunlit bliss.

I stood where glowedThe merry glare of golden whirring lightsAbove the monstrous mass that seethed and flowedThrough one of London’s nights.

I stood where glowed

The merry glare of golden whirring lights

Above the monstrous mass that seethed and flowed

Through one of London’s nights.

I watched the gleamsOf jagged warm lights on shrunk faces pale:I heard mad laughter as one hears in dreamsOr Hell’s harsh lurid tale.

I watched the gleams

Of jagged warm lights on shrunk faces pale:

I heard mad laughter as one hears in dreams

Or Hell’s harsh lurid tale.

The traffic rolled,A gliding chaos populous of din,A steaming wail at doom the Lord had scrawledFor perilous loads of sin.

The traffic rolled,

A gliding chaos populous of din,

A steaming wail at doom the Lord had scrawled

For perilous loads of sin.

And my soul thought:“What fearful land have my steps wandered to?God’s love is everywhere, but here is naughtSave love His anger slew.”

And my soul thought:

“What fearful land have my steps wandered to?

God’s love is everywhere, but here is naught

Save love His anger slew.”

And as I stoodLost in promiscuous bewilderment,Which to my mazèd soul was wonder-food,A girl in garments rent

And as I stood

Lost in promiscuous bewilderment,

Which to my mazèd soul was wonder-food,

A girl in garments rent

Peered ’neath lids shamedAnd spoke to me and murmured to my blood.My soul stopped dead, and all my horror flamedAt her forgot of God.

Peered ’neath lids shamed

And spoke to me and murmured to my blood.

My soul stopped dead, and all my horror flamed

At her forgot of God.

Her hungered eyes,Craving and yet so sadly spiritual,Shone like the unsmirched corner of a jewelWhere else foul blemish lies.

Her hungered eyes,

Craving and yet so sadly spiritual,

Shone like the unsmirched corner of a jewel

Where else foul blemish lies.

I walked with herBecause my heart thought, “Here the soul is clean,The fragrance of the frankincense and myrrhIs lost in odours mean.”

I walked with her

Because my heart thought, “Here the soul is clean,

The fragrance of the frankincense and myrrh

Is lost in odours mean.”

She told me howThe shadow of black death had newly comeAnd touched her father, mother, even nowGrim-hovering in her home,

She told me how

The shadow of black death had newly come

And touched her father, mother, even now

Grim-hovering in her home,

Where fevered layHer wasting brother in a cold, bleak room,Which theirs would be no longer than a day,And then—the streets and doom.

Where fevered lay

Her wasting brother in a cold, bleak room,

Which theirs would be no longer than a day,

And then—the streets and doom.

Lord! Lord! Dear Lord!I knew that life was bitter, but my soulRecoiled, as anguish-smitten by sharp sword,Grieving such body’s dole.

Lord! Lord! Dear Lord!

I knew that life was bitter, but my soul

Recoiled, as anguish-smitten by sharp sword,

Grieving such body’s dole.

Then grief gave placeTo a strange pulsing rapture as she spoke;For I could catch the glimpses of God’s grace,And a desire awoke

Then grief gave place

To a strange pulsing rapture as she spoke;

For I could catch the glimpses of God’s grace,

And a desire awoke

To take this trustAnd warm and gladden it with love’s new fires,Burning the past to ashes and to dustThrough purified desires.

To take this trust

And warm and gladden it with love’s new fires,

Burning the past to ashes and to dust

Through purified desires.

We walked our way,One way hewn for us from the birth of Time;For we had wandered into Love’s strange climeThrough ways sin waits to slay.

We walked our way,

One way hewn for us from the birth of Time;

For we had wandered into Love’s strange clime

Through ways sin waits to slay.

Love’s euphony,In Love’s own temple that is our glad hearts,Makes now long music wild deliciously;Now Grief hath used his darts.

Love’s euphony,

In Love’s own temple that is our glad hearts,

Makes now long music wild deliciously;

Now Grief hath used his darts.

Love infinite,Chastened by sorrow, hallowed by pure flame—Not all the surging world can compass it.Love—Love—O tremulous name!

Love infinite,

Chastened by sorrow, hallowed by pure flame—

Not all the surging world can compass it.

Love—Love—O tremulous name!

God’s mercy shines;And my full heart hath made record of this,Of grief that burst from out its dark confinesInto strange sunlit bliss.

God’s mercy shines;

And my full heart hath made record of this,

Of grief that burst from out its dark confines

Into strange sunlit bliss.

TESS

The free fair life that has never been mine, the glory that might have been,If I were what you seem to be and what I may not be!I know I walk upon the earth, but a dreadful wall betweenMy spirit and your spirit lies, your joy and my misery.The angels that lie watching us, the little human play,What deem they of the laughter and the tears that flow apart?When a word of man is a woman’s doom do they turn and wonder and say,“Ah! Why has God made love so great that love must burst her heart?”

The free fair life that has never been mine, the glory that might have been,

If I were what you seem to be and what I may not be!

I know I walk upon the earth, but a dreadful wall between

My spirit and your spirit lies, your joy and my misery.

The angels that lie watching us, the little human play,What deem they of the laughter and the tears that flow apart?When a word of man is a woman’s doom do they turn and wonder and say,“Ah! Why has God made love so great that love must burst her heart?”

The angels that lie watching us, the little human play,

What deem they of the laughter and the tears that flow apart?

When a word of man is a woman’s doom do they turn and wonder and say,

“Ah! Why has God made love so great that love must burst her heart?”

THE NUN

So thy soul’s meekness shrinks,Too loth to show her face—Why should she shun the world?It is a holy place.Concealèd to itselfIf the flower kept its scent,Of itself amorous,Less rich its ornament.Use—utmost in each kind—Is beauty, truth in one,While soul rays light to soulIn one God-linkèd sun.

So thy soul’s meekness shrinks,Too loth to show her face—Why should she shun the world?It is a holy place.

So thy soul’s meekness shrinks,

Too loth to show her face—

Why should she shun the world?

It is a holy place.

Concealèd to itselfIf the flower kept its scent,Of itself amorous,Less rich its ornament.

Concealèd to itself

If the flower kept its scent,

Of itself amorous,

Less rich its ornament.

Use—utmost in each kind—Is beauty, truth in one,While soul rays light to soulIn one God-linkèd sun.

Use—utmost in each kind—

Is beauty, truth in one,

While soul rays light to soul

In one God-linkèd sun.

IN PICCADILLY

Lamp-lit faces, to youWhat is your starry dew?Gold flowers of the night blue!Deep in wet pavement’s slimeMud-rooted is your fierce prime,To bloom in lust’s coloured clime.The sheen of eyes that lust,Which dew-time made your trust,Lights your passionless dust.

Lamp-lit faces, to youWhat is your starry dew?Gold flowers of the night blue!

Lamp-lit faces, to you

What is your starry dew?

Gold flowers of the night blue!

Deep in wet pavement’s slimeMud-rooted is your fierce prime,To bloom in lust’s coloured clime.

Deep in wet pavement’s slime

Mud-rooted is your fierce prime,

To bloom in lust’s coloured clime.

The sheen of eyes that lust,Which dew-time made your trust,Lights your passionless dust.

The sheen of eyes that lust,

Which dew-time made your trust,

Lights your passionless dust.

A MOOD

You are so light and gay,So slight, sweet maid—Your limbs like leaves in play,Or beams that grasses braid;O! Joys whose jewels prayMy breast to be inlaid.Frail fairy of the streets;Strong, dainty lure;For all men’s eyes the sweetsWhose lack makes hearts so poor;While your heart loveless beats,Light, laughing, and impure.O! Fragrant waft of flesh,Float through me so—My limbs are in your mesh,My blood forgets to flow;Ah! Lilied meadows fresh,It knows where it would go.

You are so light and gay,So slight, sweet maid—Your limbs like leaves in play,Or beams that grasses braid;O! Joys whose jewels prayMy breast to be inlaid.

You are so light and gay,

So slight, sweet maid—

Your limbs like leaves in play,

Or beams that grasses braid;

O! Joys whose jewels pray

My breast to be inlaid.

Frail fairy of the streets;Strong, dainty lure;For all men’s eyes the sweetsWhose lack makes hearts so poor;While your heart loveless beats,Light, laughing, and impure.

Frail fairy of the streets;

Strong, dainty lure;

For all men’s eyes the sweets

Whose lack makes hearts so poor;

While your heart loveless beats,

Light, laughing, and impure.

O! Fragrant waft of flesh,Float through me so—My limbs are in your mesh,My blood forgets to flow;Ah! Lilied meadows fresh,It knows where it would go.

O! Fragrant waft of flesh,

Float through me so—

My limbs are in your mesh,

My blood forgets to flow;

Ah! Lilied meadows fresh,

It knows where it would go.

FIRST FRUIT

I did not pluck at all,And I am sorry now:The garden is not barredBut the boughs are heavy with snow,The flake-blossoms thickly fallAnd the hid roots sigh, “How long will our flowers be marred?”Strange as a bird were dumb,Strange as a hueless leaf.As one deaf hungers to hear,Or gazes without belief,The fruit yearned “Fingers, come!”O, shut hands, be empty another year.

I did not pluck at all,And I am sorry now:The garden is not barredBut the boughs are heavy with snow,The flake-blossoms thickly fallAnd the hid roots sigh, “How long will our flowers be marred?”

I did not pluck at all,

And I am sorry now:

The garden is not barred

But the boughs are heavy with snow,

The flake-blossoms thickly fall

And the hid roots sigh, “How long will our flowers be marred?”

Strange as a bird were dumb,Strange as a hueless leaf.As one deaf hungers to hear,Or gazes without belief,The fruit yearned “Fingers, come!”O, shut hands, be empty another year.

Strange as a bird were dumb,

Strange as a hueless leaf.

As one deaf hungers to hear,

Or gazes without belief,

The fruit yearned “Fingers, come!”

O, shut hands, be empty another year.

A CARELESS HEART

A little breath can make a prayer,A little wind can take itAnd turn it back again to air:Then say, why should you make it?An ardent thought can make a word,A little ear can hear it,A careless heart forget it heard:Then why keep ever near it?

A little breath can make a prayer,A little wind can take itAnd turn it back again to air:Then say, why should you make it?

A little breath can make a prayer,

A little wind can take it

And turn it back again to air:

Then say, why should you make it?

An ardent thought can make a word,A little ear can hear it,A careless heart forget it heard:Then why keep ever near it?

An ardent thought can make a word,

A little ear can hear it,

A careless heart forget it heard:

Then why keep ever near it?

DAWN

O tender first cold flush of rose,O budded dawn, wake dreamily;Your dim lips as your lids uncloseMurmur your own sad threnody.O as the soft and frail lights breakUpon your eyelids, and your eyesWider and wider grow and wake,The old pale glory dies.And then, as sleep lies down to sleepAnd all her dreams lie somewhere dead,The iron shepherd leads his sheepTo pastures parched whose green is shed.Still, O frail dawn, still in your hairAnd your cold eyes and sad sweet lips,The ghosts of all the dreams are there,To fade like passing ships.

O tender first cold flush of rose,

O budded dawn, wake dreamily;

Your dim lips as your lids unclose

Murmur your own sad threnody.

O as the soft and frail lights break

Upon your eyelids, and your eyes

Wider and wider grow and wake,

The old pale glory dies.

And then, as sleep lies down to sleepAnd all her dreams lie somewhere dead,The iron shepherd leads his sheepTo pastures parched whose green is shed.Still, O frail dawn, still in your hairAnd your cold eyes and sad sweet lips,The ghosts of all the dreams are there,To fade like passing ships.

And then, as sleep lies down to sleep

And all her dreams lie somewhere dead,

The iron shepherd leads his sheep

To pastures parched whose green is shed.

Still, O frail dawn, still in your hair

And your cold eyes and sad sweet lips,

The ghosts of all the dreams are there,

To fade like passing ships.

AT NIGHT

Crazed shadows, from no golden bodyThat I can see, embrace me warm;All is purple and closedRound by night’s arm.A brilliance wings from dark-lit voices,Wild lost voices of shadows white:See the long houses leanTo the weird flight.Star-amorous things that wake at sleep-time(Because the sun spreads wide like a treeWith no good fruit for them)Thrill secrecy.Pale horses ride before the morning,The secret roots of the sun to tread,With hoofs shod with venomAnd ageless dread;To breathe on burning emerald grassesAnd opalescent dews of the day,And poison at the coreWhat smiles may stray.

Crazed shadows, from no golden bodyThat I can see, embrace me warm;All is purple and closedRound by night’s arm.

Crazed shadows, from no golden body

That I can see, embrace me warm;

All is purple and closed

Round by night’s arm.

A brilliance wings from dark-lit voices,Wild lost voices of shadows white:See the long houses leanTo the weird flight.

A brilliance wings from dark-lit voices,

Wild lost voices of shadows white:

See the long houses lean

To the weird flight.

Star-amorous things that wake at sleep-time(Because the sun spreads wide like a treeWith no good fruit for them)Thrill secrecy.

Star-amorous things that wake at sleep-time

(Because the sun spreads wide like a tree

With no good fruit for them)

Thrill secrecy.

Pale horses ride before the morning,The secret roots of the sun to tread,With hoofs shod with venomAnd ageless dread;

Pale horses ride before the morning,

The secret roots of the sun to tread,

With hoofs shod with venom

And ageless dread;

To breathe on burning emerald grassesAnd opalescent dews of the day,And poison at the coreWhat smiles may stray.

To breathe on burning emerald grasses

And opalescent dews of the day,

And poison at the core

What smiles may stray.

CREATION

As the pregnant womb of nightThrills with imprisoned light,Misty, nebulous-born,Growing deeper into her morn,So man, with no sudden stride,Bloomed into pride.In the womb of the All-spiritThe universe lay; the willBlind, an atom, lay still.The pulse of matterObeyed in aweAnd strove to flatterThe rhythmic law.But the will grew; nature feared,And cast off the child she reared,Now her rival, instinct-led,With her own powers impregnated.Brain and heart, blood-fervid flowers,Creation is each act of yours.Your roots are God, the pauseless cause,But your boughs sway to self-windy laws.Perception is no dreamy birthAnd magnifies transfigured earth.With each new light, our eyes receiveA larger power to perceive.If we could unveil our eyes,Become as wise as the All-wise,No love would be, no mystery:Love and joy dwell in infinity.Love begets love; reaching highestWe find a higher still, unseenFrom where we stood to reach the first;Moses must die to live in Christ,The seed be buried to live to green.Perfection must begin from worst.Christ perceives a larger reachless love,More full, and grows to reach thereof.The green plant yearns for its yellow fruit.Perfection always is a root,And joy a motion that doth feedItself on light of its own speed,And round its radiant circle runs,Creating and devouring suns.

As the pregnant womb of nightThrills with imprisoned light,Misty, nebulous-born,Growing deeper into her morn,So man, with no sudden stride,Bloomed into pride.

As the pregnant womb of night

Thrills with imprisoned light,

Misty, nebulous-born,

Growing deeper into her morn,

So man, with no sudden stride,

Bloomed into pride.

In the womb of the All-spiritThe universe lay; the willBlind, an atom, lay still.The pulse of matterObeyed in aweAnd strove to flatterThe rhythmic law.But the will grew; nature feared,And cast off the child she reared,Now her rival, instinct-led,With her own powers impregnated.

In the womb of the All-spirit

The universe lay; the will

Blind, an atom, lay still.

The pulse of matter

Obeyed in awe

And strove to flatter

The rhythmic law.

But the will grew; nature feared,

And cast off the child she reared,

Now her rival, instinct-led,

With her own powers impregnated.

Brain and heart, blood-fervid flowers,Creation is each act of yours.Your roots are God, the pauseless cause,But your boughs sway to self-windy laws.Perception is no dreamy birthAnd magnifies transfigured earth.With each new light, our eyes receiveA larger power to perceive.

Brain and heart, blood-fervid flowers,

Creation is each act of yours.

Your roots are God, the pauseless cause,

But your boughs sway to self-windy laws.

Perception is no dreamy birth

And magnifies transfigured earth.

With each new light, our eyes receive

A larger power to perceive.

If we could unveil our eyes,Become as wise as the All-wise,No love would be, no mystery:Love and joy dwell in infinity.Love begets love; reaching highestWe find a higher still, unseenFrom where we stood to reach the first;Moses must die to live in Christ,The seed be buried to live to green.Perfection must begin from worst.Christ perceives a larger reachless love,More full, and grows to reach thereof.The green plant yearns for its yellow fruit.Perfection always is a root,And joy a motion that doth feedItself on light of its own speed,And round its radiant circle runs,Creating and devouring suns.

If we could unveil our eyes,

Become as wise as the All-wise,

No love would be, no mystery:

Love and joy dwell in infinity.

Love begets love; reaching highest

We find a higher still, unseen

From where we stood to reach the first;

Moses must die to live in Christ,

The seed be buried to live to green.

Perfection must begin from worst.

Christ perceives a larger reachless love,

More full, and grows to reach thereof.

The green plant yearns for its yellow fruit.

Perfection always is a root,

And joy a motion that doth feed

Itself on light of its own speed,

And round its radiant circle runs,

Creating and devouring suns.

OF ANY OLD MAN

Wreck not the ageing heart of quietnessWith alien uproar and rude jolly cries,Which (satyr-like to a mild maiden’s pride)Ripen not wisdom but a large recoil;Give them their withered peace, their trial grave,Their past youth’s three-scored shadowy effigy.Mock them not with your ripened turbulence,Their frost-mailed petulance with your torrid wrath,When, edging your boisterous thunders, shivers one word(Pap to their senile sneering, drug to truth,The feigned rampart of bleak ignorance)“Experience”—crown of naked majesties,That tells us naught we know not, but confirms.O think, you reverend shadowy austere,Your Christ’s youth was not ended when he died.

Wreck not the ageing heart of quietness

With alien uproar and rude jolly cries,

Which (satyr-like to a mild maiden’s pride)

Ripen not wisdom but a large recoil;

Give them their withered peace, their trial grave,

Their past youth’s three-scored shadowy effigy.

Mock them not with your ripened turbulence,

Their frost-mailed petulance with your torrid wrath,

When, edging your boisterous thunders, shivers one word

(Pap to their senile sneering, drug to truth,

The feigned rampart of bleak ignorance)

“Experience”—crown of naked majesties,

That tells us naught we know not, but confirms.

O think, you reverend shadowy austere,

Your Christ’s youth was not ended when he died.

THE ONE LOST

I mingle with your bones;You steal in subtle nooseThis lighted dust Jehovah loansAnd now I lose.What will the Lender sayWhen I shall not be found,Safe-sheltered at the Judgment Day,Being in you bound?He’ll hunt through wards of Heaven,Call to uncoffined earth“Where is this soul, unjudged, not givenDole for good’s dearth?”And I, lying so safeWithin you, hearing all,To have cheated God shall laugh,Freed by your thrall.

I mingle with your bones;You steal in subtle nooseThis lighted dust Jehovah loansAnd now I lose.

I mingle with your bones;

You steal in subtle noose

This lighted dust Jehovah loans

And now I lose.

What will the Lender sayWhen I shall not be found,Safe-sheltered at the Judgment Day,Being in you bound?

What will the Lender say

When I shall not be found,

Safe-sheltered at the Judgment Day,

Being in you bound?

He’ll hunt through wards of Heaven,Call to uncoffined earth“Where is this soul, unjudged, not givenDole for good’s dearth?”

He’ll hunt through wards of Heaven,

Call to uncoffined earth

“Where is this soul, unjudged, not given

Dole for good’s dearth?”

And I, lying so safeWithin you, hearing all,To have cheated God shall laugh,Freed by your thrall.

And I, lying so safe

Within you, hearing all,

To have cheated God shall laugh,

Freed by your thrall.

WEDDED

They leave their love-lorn haunts,Their sigh-warm floating Eden;And they are mute at once,Mortals by God unheeden,By their past kisses chidden.But they have kist and knownClear things we dim by guesses—Spirit to spirit grown:Heaven, born in hand-caresses.Love, fall from sheltering tresses.And they are dumb and strange:Bared trees bowed from each other.Their last green interchangeWhat lost dreams shall discover?Dead, strayed, to love-strange lover.

They leave their love-lorn haunts,Their sigh-warm floating Eden;And they are mute at once,Mortals by God unheeden,By their past kisses chidden.

They leave their love-lorn haunts,

Their sigh-warm floating Eden;

And they are mute at once,

Mortals by God unheeden,

By their past kisses chidden.

But they have kist and knownClear things we dim by guesses—Spirit to spirit grown:Heaven, born in hand-caresses.Love, fall from sheltering tresses.

But they have kist and known

Clear things we dim by guesses—

Spirit to spirit grown:

Heaven, born in hand-caresses.

Love, fall from sheltering tresses.

And they are dumb and strange:Bared trees bowed from each other.Their last green interchangeWhat lost dreams shall discover?Dead, strayed, to love-strange lover.

And they are dumb and strange:

Bared trees bowed from each other.

Their last green interchange

What lost dreams shall discover?

Dead, strayed, to love-strange lover.

DON JUAN’S SONG

The moon is in an ecstasy,It wanes not nor can grow;The heavens are in a mist of love,And deepest knowledge know:What things in nature seem to moveBear love as I bear love?And bear my pleasures so?I bear my love as streams that bearThe sky still flow or shake:Though deep within, too far on high.Light blossoms kiss and wakeThe waters sooner than the sky;And if they kiss and dieGod made them frail to break.

The moon is in an ecstasy,It wanes not nor can grow;The heavens are in a mist of love,And deepest knowledge know:What things in nature seem to moveBear love as I bear love?And bear my pleasures so?

The moon is in an ecstasy,

It wanes not nor can grow;

The heavens are in a mist of love,

And deepest knowledge know:

What things in nature seem to move

Bear love as I bear love?

And bear my pleasures so?

I bear my love as streams that bearThe sky still flow or shake:Though deep within, too far on high.Light blossoms kiss and wakeThe waters sooner than the sky;And if they kiss and dieGod made them frail to break.

I bear my love as streams that bear

The sky still flow or shake:

Though deep within, too far on high.

Light blossoms kiss and wake

The waters sooner than the sky;

And if they kiss and die

God made them frail to break.

ON A LADY SINGING

She bade us listen to the singing larkIn tones far sweeter than its own:For fear that she should cease and leave us darkWe built the bird a feignèd throne,Shrined in her gracious glory-giving waysFrom sceptred hands of starred humility—Praising herself the more in giving praiseTo music less than she.

She bade us listen to the singing lark

In tones far sweeter than its own:

For fear that she should cease and leave us dark

We built the bird a feignèd throne,

Shrined in her gracious glory-giving ways

From sceptred hands of starred humility—

Praising herself the more in giving praise

To music less than she.

BEAUTY

As a sword in the sun—A glory calling a glory—Our eyes, seeing it run,Capture its gleam for our story.Singer, marvellous gleamDancing in splendid light,Here you have brought us our dream—Ah, but its stay is its flight!

As a sword in the sun—A glory calling a glory—Our eyes, seeing it run,Capture its gleam for our story.

As a sword in the sun—

A glory calling a glory—

Our eyes, seeing it run,

Capture its gleam for our story.

Singer, marvellous gleamDancing in splendid light,Here you have brought us our dream—Ah, but its stay is its flight!

Singer, marvellous gleam

Dancing in splendid light,

Here you have brought us our dream—

Ah, but its stay is its flight!

A QUESTION

What if you shut your eyes and look,Yea, look with all the spirit’s eyes,While mystic unrevealèd skiesUnfold like pages of a bookWherein new scenes of wonder rareAre imaged, till the sense deceivesItself, and what it sees believes—Even what the soul has pictured there?

What if you shut your eyes and look,Yea, look with all the spirit’s eyes,While mystic unrevealèd skiesUnfold like pages of a book

What if you shut your eyes and look,

Yea, look with all the spirit’s eyes,

While mystic unrevealèd skies

Unfold like pages of a book

Wherein new scenes of wonder rareAre imaged, till the sense deceivesItself, and what it sees believes—Even what the soul has pictured there?

Wherein new scenes of wonder rare

Are imaged, till the sense deceives

Itself, and what it sees believes—

Even what the soul has pictured there?

CHAGRIN

Caught still as Absalom,Surely the air hangsFrom the swayless cloud-boughsLike hair of AbsalomCaught and hanging still.From the imagined weightOf spaces in a skyOf mute chagrin my thoughtsHang like branch-clung hairTo trunks of silence swung,With the choked soul weighing downInto thick emptiness.Christ, end this hanging death,For endlessness hangs therefrom!Invisibly branches breakFrom invisible trees:The cloud-woods where we rush(Our eyes holding so much),Which we must ride dim ages roundEre the hands (we dream) can touch,We ride, we ride—before the morningThe secret roots of the sun to tread—And suddenlyWe are lifted of all we know,And hang from implacable boughs.

Caught still as Absalom,Surely the air hangsFrom the swayless cloud-boughsLike hair of AbsalomCaught and hanging still.

Caught still as Absalom,

Surely the air hangs

From the swayless cloud-boughs

Like hair of Absalom

Caught and hanging still.

From the imagined weightOf spaces in a skyOf mute chagrin my thoughtsHang like branch-clung hairTo trunks of silence swung,With the choked soul weighing downInto thick emptiness.Christ, end this hanging death,For endlessness hangs therefrom!

From the imagined weight

Of spaces in a sky

Of mute chagrin my thoughts

Hang like branch-clung hair

To trunks of silence swung,

With the choked soul weighing down

Into thick emptiness.

Christ, end this hanging death,

For endlessness hangs therefrom!

Invisibly branches breakFrom invisible trees:The cloud-woods where we rush(Our eyes holding so much),Which we must ride dim ages roundEre the hands (we dream) can touch,We ride, we ride—before the morningThe secret roots of the sun to tread—And suddenlyWe are lifted of all we know,And hang from implacable boughs.

Invisibly branches break

From invisible trees:

The cloud-woods where we rush

(Our eyes holding so much),

Which we must ride dim ages round

Ere the hands (we dream) can touch,

We ride, we ride—before the morning

The secret roots of the sun to tread—

And suddenly

We are lifted of all we know,

And hang from implacable boughs.

THE BLIND GOD

Streaked with immortal blasphemies,Betwixt His twin eternitiesThe Shaper of mortal destiniesSits in that limbo of dreamless sleep,Some nothing that hath shadows deep.The world is only a small poolIn the meadows of Eternity,And men like fishes lying cool;And the wise man and the foolIn its depths like fishes lie.When an angel drops a rodAnd he draws you to the skyWill you bear to meet your GodYou have streaked with blasphemy?

Streaked with immortal blasphemies,Betwixt His twin eternitiesThe Shaper of mortal destiniesSits in that limbo of dreamless sleep,Some nothing that hath shadows deep.

Streaked with immortal blasphemies,

Betwixt His twin eternities

The Shaper of mortal destinies

Sits in that limbo of dreamless sleep,

Some nothing that hath shadows deep.

The world is only a small poolIn the meadows of Eternity,And men like fishes lying cool;And the wise man and the foolIn its depths like fishes lie.When an angel drops a rodAnd he draws you to the skyWill you bear to meet your GodYou have streaked with blasphemy?

The world is only a small pool

In the meadows of Eternity,

And men like fishes lying cool;

And the wise man and the fool

In its depths like fishes lie.

When an angel drops a rod

And he draws you to the sky

Will you bear to meet your God

You have streaked with blasphemy?

THE FEMALE GOD

We curl into your eyes—They drink our fires and have never drained;In the fierce forest of your hairOur desires beat blindly for their treasure.In your eyes’ subtle pit,Far down, glimmer our souls;And your hair like massive forest treesShadows our pulses, overtired and dumb.Like a candle lost in an electric glareOur spirits tread your eyes’ infinities;In the wrecking waves of your tumultuous locksDo you not hear the moaning of our pulses?Queen! Goddess! Animal!In sleep do your dreams battle with our souls?When your hair is spread like a lover on the pillowDo not our jealous pulses wake between?You have dethroned the ancient God,You have usurped his Sabbath, his common days;Yea, every moment is delivered to you,Our Temple, our Eternal, our one God!Our souls have passed into your eyes,Our days into your hair;And you, our rose-deaf prison, are very pleased with the world,Your world.

We curl into your eyes—They drink our fires and have never drained;In the fierce forest of your hairOur desires beat blindly for their treasure.

We curl into your eyes—

They drink our fires and have never drained;

In the fierce forest of your hair

Our desires beat blindly for their treasure.

In your eyes’ subtle pit,Far down, glimmer our souls;And your hair like massive forest treesShadows our pulses, overtired and dumb.

In your eyes’ subtle pit,

Far down, glimmer our souls;

And your hair like massive forest trees

Shadows our pulses, overtired and dumb.

Like a candle lost in an electric glareOur spirits tread your eyes’ infinities;In the wrecking waves of your tumultuous locksDo you not hear the moaning of our pulses?

Like a candle lost in an electric glare

Our spirits tread your eyes’ infinities;

In the wrecking waves of your tumultuous locks

Do you not hear the moaning of our pulses?

Queen! Goddess! Animal!In sleep do your dreams battle with our souls?When your hair is spread like a lover on the pillowDo not our jealous pulses wake between?

Queen! Goddess! Animal!

In sleep do your dreams battle with our souls?

When your hair is spread like a lover on the pillow

Do not our jealous pulses wake between?

You have dethroned the ancient God,You have usurped his Sabbath, his common days;Yea, every moment is delivered to you,Our Temple, our Eternal, our one God!

You have dethroned the ancient God,

You have usurped his Sabbath, his common days;

Yea, every moment is delivered to you,

Our Temple, our Eternal, our one God!

Our souls have passed into your eyes,Our days into your hair;And you, our rose-deaf prison, are very pleased with the world,Your world.

Our souls have passed into your eyes,

Our days into your hair;

And you, our rose-deaf prison, are very pleased with the world,

Your world.

GOD

In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire,Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned!His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls:The world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled catTo him. On fragments of an old shrunk power,On shy and maimed, on women wrung awry,He lay—a bullying hulk—to crush them more;But when one fearless turned and clawed like bronze,Cringing was easy to blunt these stern paws,And he would weigh the heavier on those after.Who rests in God’s mean flattery now? Your wealthIs but his cunning to make death more hard,Your iron sinews take more pain in breaking;And he has made the market for your beautyToo poor to buy although you die to sell.Only that he has never heard of sleep,And when the cats come out the rats are sly,Here we are safe till he slinks in at dawn.But he has gnawed a fibre from strange roots,And in the morning some pale wonder ceases.Things are not strange; and strange things are forgetful.Ah! If the day were arid, somehow lostOut of us; but it is as hair of us,And only in the hush no wind stirs it,And in the light vague trouble lifts and breathes,And restlessness still shadows the lost ways.The fingers shut on voices that pass throughWhere blind farewells are taken easily.Ah, this miasma of a rotting God!

In his malodorous brain what slugs and mire,

Lanthorned in his oblique eyes, guttering burned!

His body lodged a rat where men nursed souls:

The world flashed grape-green eyes of a foiled cat

To him. On fragments of an old shrunk power,

On shy and maimed, on women wrung awry,

He lay—a bullying hulk—to crush them more;

But when one fearless turned and clawed like bronze,

Cringing was easy to blunt these stern paws,

And he would weigh the heavier on those after.

Who rests in God’s mean flattery now? Your wealthIs but his cunning to make death more hard,Your iron sinews take more pain in breaking;And he has made the market for your beautyToo poor to buy although you die to sell.Only that he has never heard of sleep,And when the cats come out the rats are sly,Here we are safe till he slinks in at dawn.

Who rests in God’s mean flattery now? Your wealth

Is but his cunning to make death more hard,

Your iron sinews take more pain in breaking;

And he has made the market for your beauty

Too poor to buy although you die to sell.

Only that he has never heard of sleep,

And when the cats come out the rats are sly,

Here we are safe till he slinks in at dawn.

But he has gnawed a fibre from strange roots,And in the morning some pale wonder ceases.Things are not strange; and strange things are forgetful.Ah! If the day were arid, somehow lostOut of us; but it is as hair of us,And only in the hush no wind stirs it,And in the light vague trouble lifts and breathes,And restlessness still shadows the lost ways.The fingers shut on voices that pass throughWhere blind farewells are taken easily.

But he has gnawed a fibre from strange roots,

And in the morning some pale wonder ceases.

Things are not strange; and strange things are forgetful.

Ah! If the day were arid, somehow lost

Out of us; but it is as hair of us,

And only in the hush no wind stirs it,

And in the light vague trouble lifts and breathes,

And restlessness still shadows the lost ways.

The fingers shut on voices that pass through

Where blind farewells are taken easily.

Ah, this miasma of a rotting God!

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