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L'AMOUR QUI PASSE OVE comes to flit, a spark of steel Struck on the flint of youth and wit; Ay, little maid, for woe or weal, Love comes to flit. Hermes one whisper thrills. Admit! Kupris one smile aims—do you feel? Eros one. arrow—has he hit? Why do you sit there immobile? A spark extinct is not relit. Beyond resource, above appeal, Love comes to flit. 25
…ere let life’s agony take hold enough Of all that lives: let partial tears for them Wake knowledge, brain-dissolving diadem Of white-hot woe upon the brows of love! D0
…fe once more!” Falls the baulked hope of half a million years. She in her gloom and ignorance will go Forlorn to Paphos, wrapt in urgent woe, Her hair funereal swathing her fallen form, Its wind-swept horror holding him; his white Torn body blushing through tempestuous night. So breaks the life in hell, the year in storm. 62
…f the galleried pines Is mine to-day: these groves are fit for Pan— O rich with Bacchic frenzy and his wine’s Atonement for the infinite woe of man! Is there no God of Vital Art to dwell Serene, enshrined, incensed, adored of us? Were not a cemetery His citadel? His treasure-house some barred sarcophagus? And here his mighty and reverend high-priest Bade me good cheer, an eager acolyte, Poured the high wine, unveiled the mystic feast ;— Swooped the plumed anguish of inveterate night; Devouring torture of insight shot. Night hovered; Dawn smote.…
… yield. Shame, sorrow, these be sire and dam of song. Fatality, O Nature, is thy name. Along the accurséd river, stagnant shame, Eddying woe, from rape and godly wrong, Springs the immortal reed: the mortal’s cry Rises, an angry anthem, to the sky. _ 52
CARYATIDE HALL beauty avail thee, Caryatid, crouched, crushed by the weight of a world of woe? By birthright the burden is thine: on thy shoulders the sorrow hath slid From the hand of the Healer: behold, in the steady, continuous throe, Shall beauty avail thee, Caryatid? Thou wast proud of thy beauty: the burden of beauty was hid From thy eyes: how is’t now with thee, now? By the sweat dropping slow From the brows of thy anguish, we see what the weight of it did To the patient despair of the brain. Shall no God strike a blow? Shall no hero be …
…ster-hand, aright That ecstasy of pain and mirth, A baby’s birth! That prize of fear Engrave upon the loftiest tier! Nor in the solitary woe (The silent, the unwitting strain) Forget the miracles that grow In the austerely ordered brain! Darwin and Taine, Descartes and Boyle, Inscribe thou on the Tower of Toil! Those who have striven to limn the mind, Paint, model, tune, or hymn the light, Their vision of the world refined By mastery of superior sight: Honour their might! the gain have these Of all men’s woes and ecstasies! High soul; no benedi…
…oms heaved ere Nature's age From monkey-man deduced the sage! So be thy spiral tower the type Of higher convolutions drawn From hunger’s woe and murder’s gripe And lust’s revulsion to the dawn Of days that spawn on holier soil Thy loftier sons, O Tower of Toil. 17
…ne utter ease, Abandoned rapture! Caught and cut by seas Of sudden wisdom, stinging as a knife Swift struck sets all the blood a-tingle. Woe! What wakes within? What holiest intimation Of intimate knowledge of the lords of nature? She sees her fate smile out on her, doth know Her weird of womanhood, her noble station Among the stars and ages; and her stature Soars o'er the system; so the scarred misfeature Of death avails her for the isolation Of high things ever holy; this the throe Of swiftly-comprehended motherhood Once taught her. Now the w…