Poem dissimi-
lar to its pre-
decessor. Will
it lead some-
where this
time?
Reflections on
the weather,
proper to be-
ginning a con-
versation in
English.
Autobiography
of bard.
Lehrjahre.
Wanderjahre.
‘* Themagician
of Paris."
How clever I
am /
PENTECOST
To-DAY thrice halves the lunar week
Since you, indignant, heard me speak
Indignant. Then I seemed to be
So far from Christianity !
Now, other celebrations fit
The time, another song shall flit
Reponsive to another tune.
September's shadow falls on June,
But dull November's darkest day
Is hghted by the sun of May.
Here’s how I got a better learning.
It’s a long lane that has no turning !
Mad as a woman-hunted Urning,
The lie-chased alethephilist : *
Sorcery’s maw gulps the beginner:
In Pain’s mill neophytes are grist :
Disciples ache upon the rack.
Five years I sought: I miss and lack ;
Agony hounds lagoan twist; _
I peak and struggle and grow thinner,
And get to hate the sight of dinner.
With sacred thirst, I, soul-hydroptic,!
Read Levi? and the cryptic Coptic ;3
With ANET’ HER-K UAA EN RaA,!
And SM 8I NAD
While good MacGregor* (who taught freely us)
Bade us investigate Cornelius
Agrippa and the sorceries black
Of grim Honorius and Abramelin ; ®
While, fertile as the teeming spawn
Of pickled lax or stickleback,
Came ancient rituals,“ whack! whack !
Of Rosy Cross and Golden Dawn.$
* Truth-lover.
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