1939 · PDF PAGE 4
Temperance: A Tract for the Times
Contents: BOB CHANLER In Memoriam HYMN TO ASTARTE for Deirdre THE MORALIST for Augustus HAPPY DUST for Margot THE ARTIST for Frieda
original embedded textRead original & transcription →
FOLLOW A WORD THROUGH THE COLLECTION
Search the corpus.
Phrase search ignores case and repeated whitespace. All-words search finds whole words anywhere on the same page. OCR errors can affect results.
4 matching pages
Page 1 of 11939 · PDF PAGE 10
Temperance: A Tract for the Times
HAPPY DUST. For MARGOTE Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, the abode of ineffable things, Quintessence of joy and of strength, that, abolishing future and past, Makst the Present an infinite length, my soul all-One with the Vast, The Lone, the Unnamable God, that is ice of His measureless cold, Without being or form or abode, without motion or matter, the fold Where the shepherded Universe sleeps, with nor sense nor delusion nor dream, No spirit that wantons or weeps, no thought in…
original embedded textRead original & transcription →
1939 · PDF PAGE 7
Temperance: A Tract for the Times
…ast to the wit That its changeless perfection is death, itself the assassin of it? Love under will is the law; all that exists, from the dust To the Gods, is but jetsam of Love, cast up by the tide of Her lust. So I hail thee, Astarte, and hymn thee in brothel and temple the same, Who are seed of all change, being Love, by Corruption Thine innermost Name! I know Thy device to deceive Thy servants Thine image that hailed How none, being mortal, might learn Thy name, or behold Thee unveiled. For Thy secret is this, that immortals are crowned with…
original embedded textRead original & transcription →
1939 · PDF PAGE 11
Temperance: A Tract for the Times
…y, Peace; I abandon the Here and the Now; I cease from the effort to cease, I absolve the dead I from its Vow, I am wholly content to be dust, whether that be a mote or a star, To live and to love and to lust, acknowledge what seem for what are, Not to care what I am, if I be, whence I came, whither go, how I thrive, If my spirit be bound or be free, save as Nature contrive. What I am, that I am, tis enough. I am part of a glorious game. Am I cast for madness or love? I am cast to esteem them the same. Am I only a dream in the sleep of some bu…
original embedded textRead original & transcription →