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1939 · PDF PAGE 7

Temperance: A Tract for the Times

… I accept every phantom of Mind, vain dreams in fatuity curled; I accept the corruption of Body, delight to bring Death to the world. In measureless madness I bask, I gloat upon carrion flesh. I wallow with God in the mire, and of mire I create Him afresh. There is naught, nor shall be, that my love cannot gnaw with insatiate tooth: I will wring forth the Truth from the lies as I once found the lies in the Truth. Astarte, I know thee for rotten as others have seen thee for pure; I tear off the mask that smiled false on the slaves who would have…

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1939 · PDF PAGE 10

Temperance: A Tract for the Times

…g future and past, Mak’st 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 its silence supreme. I sit, and am utterly still; in mine eyes is my fathomless lust Ablaze to annihilate Will, to crumble my being to dust, To calcine the dust to an ash, to burn up the ash to an air, To…

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1939 · PDF PAGE 11

Temperance: A Tract for the Times

… esteem them the same. Am I only a dream in the sleep of some butterfly? Phantom of fright Conceived, who knows how, or how deep, in the measureless womb of the night? I imagine impossible thought, metaphysical voids that beget Ideas intangible wrought to things less conceivable yet. It may be. Little I reck—but, assume the existence of earth, Am I born to be hanged by the neck, a curse from the hour of my birth? Am I born to abolish man’s guilt? His horrible heritage, awe? Or a seed in his wantonness spilt by a jester? I care not a straw, For …

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