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1939 · PDF PAGE 7

Temperance: A Tract for the Times

…uption 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 them endure. But Thou and Thy masks are but one, Thy corruption the Essence of T…

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1939 · PDF PAGE 6

Temperance: A Tract for the Times

…s naught but a corpse, its growth but a name of decay, A delirious dream of sick gods—where the Shadow hath sway. Concocted of offal and mire, putrescent with cancer of breath, A knot that unravels to naught, a riddle whose answer is Death? The mind is the reek of the fume of the body’s corruption, the mime Of its magotty moods as it rots from its worm-eaten egg to its slime. The mind hath not even a mist to excuse philosophic pretence Of a substance; at most it distorts some few of the phantoms of sense. Its reason is ever astray, its ignoranc…

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