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7 matching pages
Page 1 of 11907 · PDF PAGE 74
…ush or lyre to Art, shall see in this The symbol of his battle against men For men, the picture of the torturing bliss Of his necessity: sits clutched and closed Into himself the adept of wizard thought. Gripped in his own embrace he sits: keen-nosed The invisible bloodhounds ache upon the slot! Soon, soon they are on him: soon the fangs of hate, The sharp teeth of the infinite are in him! Shall love, or fame, or gold, those pangs abate? What siren with smooth voice and breast shall win him? Never a one, be sure! In serene awe The thinker formu…
1907 · PDF PAGE 84
…te spell, Conjuring ghosts of the insane address Of agony lurid in the damned caress, Exulting tortures of the heart of hell. The maiden sits and listens, smiles. Her breath Is easy; over her bowed head fall deep Glowing cascades of hair; she combs her hair With subtle ecstasy, electric sweep Of unimaginable joy; let life and death Pass; she will comb, and comb, and will not care. 06
1907 · PDF PAGE 52
…es; caught thence . Corollary, syllogism, she strides tense Into the inmost agony of things. So, fearless, amid gods and evil kings, She sits, poor wretch, eternal scientist, Straining mild muscles, leaving to its list The spasm-shaken body. So she flings The teeth-set fate of Fortune’s face unkissed Against the fiat: sets her clenchéd fist In his face: slides spinning with her body’s twist Into the inmost agony of things. 32
1907 · PDF PAGE 103
…ions exult, despairs abound, loves dote, Thoughts gallop or abide: and prayer is sin. Spell-bound we sat: one, young, eagerly moves. One sits in thought: one listens, dreams, and loves. One, critical, approves with conscious nod. But I abode without the spell; saw these— Diverse harmonies of identical keys!— And these were thus: but Rodin heard like God. 67
1907 · PDF PAGE 82
…e, touch and curl about thy heart; they spend Pitiful love. Lovelier pity, descend And bring me luck who am lonely and forlorn.” Fortune sits idle on her throne. The scent Of honeyed incense wreathes her lips with pleasure. For pure delight of luxury she turns, Smooth in her goddess rapture. So she spurns And crushes the pale suppliant. Softly bent, Her body laughs in ecstasy of leisure. o4
1907 · PDF PAGE 78
LA GUERRE HE sits and screams above the folk of peace, Deafening their quiet ears with hideous clamour. Abhorred and careless she bids order cease. Her hate resolves the shriek into a stammer Of inarticulate rage. The wounded man Twisted in agony beneath her squirms To hear her raucous blasphemies outspan The grip of God at this his last of terms. Yea! he must die with horror in his ears, Hate in his heart. The mischief must endure. He hath expiated naught by death. His tears, His thoughts, these strike nor stay her not, be sure! She is Madness…
1907 · PDF PAGE 37
…ee is hid from the lesser and dull—hidden from me. She squats, and is void and null; I know her not; ' As God is above, but more so, she sits, to blot Intelligence out of my brain, conceit from my ken; And I class myself, idle and vain, with the newspaper men. 21