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Page 1 of 11898 · PDF PAGE 80
Holds out a star. He stands amid the storm, a mighty rock, His long hair blows about, the demons mock His entry to their kingdom, and despair. Groans in the blackness, infamous and bare, And hateful shapes and eyes surround his head— O for the magic of those mightier dead To scatter them, and utterly destroy Their likeness, and to penetrate the joy Of yonder places past the realm of fear ! O that some mighty seer Came to avenge, that might deliver him From this grim fight, whose horrid ranks are dim With mist of spuméd blood, whose long chill h…
1898 · PDF PAGE 109
…y one moment bonds of clay, And touch the day With pallid wistful lips beyond the earth, And bring to birth New thoughts with which life long has travailed ; As if one dead Should rise and utter secrets of the tomb, And from hell’s womb Or heaven’s breast bring all the load of fears, Toils of long years, Sorrows of life and agonies of death, Hard caught-up breath, The labouring hands of love, the cheeks of shame, The gloomy flame 99
1898 · PDF PAGE 104
…fleece of snow, I saw, and deep beyond the night, The steady mystic glow Of that lamp’s flame unearthly bright That watches Earth below. Long avenues of sleepy trees And bowers arched with love, And kisses woven for a breeze, And lips that scarcely move, Save as long ripples on the seas, That murmur like a dove. I saw the burning lips of God Set fast on Mary’s face, 94
1898 · PDF PAGE 93
… God ! what eyes ! The souls grown sharp and strong That my lips made their prize, The ruined souls, the wrecks Of bodies fair of flecks Long since, ere God did vex My soul with sacrifice. Pale youth and bloodless maiden Whose breasts have bled, With wrath or mercy laden, By love or terror led, Reproachful or reviling, Some pure and some defiling, Some fearful and some smiling, Some living and some dead. 83
1898 · PDF PAGE 47
…he violet guessed, By some slow dream that thrilled her gentle breast, That some sweet thing might come to her ; she thought Through the long days of how her dream was wrought : 37
1898 · PDF PAGE 37
…me, through midnight’s infamy. My blood grows chill and stagnant with my shame. O Love, to speak thy name ! O Life ! O Heaven ! O dreams long dead ! Ye Spirits Rising unbidden from Hope’s cobwebbed door, Ye quick desires that every soul inherits, Leave me to weep, and torture me no more ! My face grows grey with sheer despair ; I shrink From dreams ; I dare not think. I had a poet’s dreams. My soul was yearning To grasp the firmament and hold it fast, 27
1898 · PDF PAGE 50
…lossom, and bent very low, And put it to her lips—and even so His lips were set on them ; the flower sighed For deep delight, and in the long kiss died. Years fled and faded, yet a flower was seen Gracious and comely in its nest of green, And tender hands would water it and say “ O happy sister, she that went away ! “ For she brought back my lover to my heart, And knew her work was perfect, and her part Most perfect when she died between the breath, And in the bridal kisses kissed to death.” So grew the newer blossom and was glad : Sweet little…
1898 · PDF PAGE 57
Straining my eyes in horror and defeat Toward the long vista seen where rescue seems to greet. The vessel fills with brackish foam. I drink, Drink to the end, and stagger on alone Without a staff to hold me if I sink In the hot quagmires of untrusty stone. Foodless and beastless, so despairing grown, I know not, care not, only trust that soon The sun’s dominion may be overthrown, And o’er the wilderness appear the moon With cold lips to bestow the inestimable boon. Still I have never prayed for death, but rather Would be found fighting toward t…
1898 · PDF PAGE 23
… to wrestle down the hard embrace That grips the thighs of thought. And so he dies To pass beyond ye—whither ? To find God ? All my life long I have gazed, and dreamed, and thought, Unless my thought itself were but a dream, A little, troubled dream, a dream of death Whence I may wake—ah, where ? In some new world Where Consciousness doth touch the Infinite, And all the strivings of the soul be found 13
1898 · PDF PAGE 16
… to rest The fevered head and cool the aching eyes ; Sleep for a space, to fall upon the breast Of the dear God, that He may sympathize. Long has the day drawn out ; a bitter frost Sparkles along the streets ; the shipping heaves With the slow murmur of the sea, half lost In the last rustle of forgotten leaves. Over the bridges pass the throngs ; the sound, Deep and insistent, penetrates the mist— I hear it not, I contemplate the wound Stabbed in the flanks of my dear silver Christ. He hangs in anguish there ; the crown of thorns Pierces that p…