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…raddle on the crosses. Our soulless missiles take for butts The passers’ hats, or in their guts Disturb their dinner’s process. Thus one man’s work is one man’s play; The melancholy help the merry. All tread the ordered stupid way At Paris, upon Dead Man’s Day, In Pére Lachaise his cemetery. 88
The agéd man lifted his mouth And spat against the South. He clutched his throat in pang of death, As if he cried for breath. Whereat the second beat his breast And frowned upon the West. Then the man sighed, as if to say: The glow of life is gone away. At this the rusty and wroth released His eyes against the East. Then the man touched his navel, as He felt his life thence pass. Also he smote his spine; the base Of life burnt up apace. Then rose the many-coloured sage; He was right sad with age. 93
… was open and bold: His silence girt him like fine gold. The fifth was ruddy and fair of face; He held his tongue a space. The sixth was many-coloured, but He kept his lips well shut. The last was like a full great moon; He knew, but uttered not, his rune. Il. Now when the time was fully come The dying man was dumb, But with his failing hand did make A sign: my heart doth ache. At that the kingly man, the fourth, Rose up and spat against the North. Then made the dying man a sign: My head is running like strong wine. 92
…dissolution vile, Fades as the royal truth is known: Though change and sorrow range and roll, There is no self—there is no soul! XII. As man, a primate risen high Above his fellows, work thou well! As man, an incident minute And dim in time’s eternity, Work well! As man, no toy for hell And heaven to wrangle for, be mute! Let empty speculation stir The idle fool, the craven cur! XIII. Myself being idle for an hour I dare one thing to speculate: Namely, that life hath cusps yet higher On this our curve: a prize, a power Lies in our grasp: unthin…
emotions, to be brief, so great that man had no place therein. But there are moods, in which the heights are attained indirectly, and through man’s struggle with the elemental powers. In these poems you shall hear the laughter of the gods and of the devils; understand their terrors and ecstasies; live in their heavens and hells. But I not only heard and understood and lived; I sounded and imposed and begat: you must also do both, or the universe will still be a mystery to you as to the others.
…im arose the ruddy and fair; He was right debonair. They twain to upper air and lower Advanced the eyes of power. Ay! but above the dead man’s head A lotus-flower was spread. Thence dripped the Amrita, whereby Life learneth not to die. The seventh in silence tended it Against the horror of the pit. ITI. Thus in a cage of wisdom lay The dead man, live as they. They hold him sacred from the sun, From death and dissolution. Within the charmédd space is naught Possible unto thought. 94
The ringing cries of the victors peal In, in at the captured gate ! Then o’er the field the maniac passed And closed the dead men’s eyes. ‘‘ They are sleeping close with death at last !” The wanton warrior cries. But he who saw the dead man’s jaw Grind at the last was aware That the harlot’s kiss was Paradise That the soldier tasted there. And beyond the magnificent joy of death Shears through the sky, as a flame Ripping the air, the lightning breath Of the nation’s resonant fame. Hail! to the Hachiman deed well done! To the virile strength of …
As for the meanest monad, knit To man by mightier bonds than skill Of subtle-souled psychology May sever. Aim in chaos? None. The soul rolls senseless as the sun. III. Existence, as we know it, spins A fatal warp, a woof of woe. There is no place for God or soul. Works, hopes, prayers, sacrifices, sins Are jokes. The cosmos happened so: Innocent all of guide or goal. Else, what were man’s appointed term? To feed God’s friend, the coffn-worm! Iv. Laugh, thou immortal Lesbian! Thy verse runs down the runic ages. Where shalt thou be when sun and s…
She hath love by rime and rote, She is subtle and quick to man! She danceth? Say she doth float! Rapture is gold in her eyes! She sigheth honey-sweet sighs Of the glory of Japan! Red are her lips and large, The delicate courtesan !” Then the officer’s voice Caught in his throat for joy. Like birds in spring that rejoice, Clearly and softly the boy Whispered : ‘‘ Now, let us charge!” Then leaping sheer o’er trench and mound, They rise as a single man; They bound like antelopes over the ground For the glory of Japan. With glittering steel they wh…
…bit, and the results of treatment or accident are distinctly visible in it: for example, he who by nature or training or both was a tall man while he was alive, will remain as he was, after he is dead; and the fat will remain fat; and soon; and the dead man who in life had a fancy to have flowing hair, will have flowing hair. And if he was marked with the whip and had the prints of the scourge, or of wounds in him when he was alive, you might see the same in the dead body; and if his limbs were broken or misshapen when he was alive, the same ap…
… round my ribs until You crush me in the ecstasies that kill. Being away and breathing icy air I am half lover, caring not to care; Half-man again—a mere terrestrial ball Thus breaking up a spiritual thrall— Eh, my philosophers ?—half-man may yet deter- mine To get back manhood, shake the tree from bats: To change the trope a shade—get rid of vermin By using William Shakespeare’s ‘‘ Rough on Rats.” VI. Ah, love, dear love, sole queen of my affection, Guess you not yet what wheel of thought is spun? How out of dawn’s tumultuous dejection And not…
… poisoned dagger, Biting his blood, burning his bones apart. Ah! Sweet, each kiss I drink from you is warm With the dear life-blood of a man—a man! The scent of murder lures me, like a charm Tied by some subtlety Canidian. Ay! as you suck my life out into bliss, Its holier joy is in the deadlier thirst That drank his life out into the abyss Of torture endless, endless and accurst. I know him little; liking what I know. But you—you offer me his flesh and blood. I taste it—never another vintage owe, Nor bid me sup upon another food ! 76
…and burn! Be brothers to the law of life! Things as they are—their nature know! Act! Nor for faith nor folly turn! The hour is nigh when man and wife, Knowing, shall worship face to face, Beget and bear the royal race. 12
THE MORIBUND. I, THE Seven Wise Men of Martaban Sate round the dying man. They were so still, one would have said: If he were dying, they were dead! The first was agéd; in his beard He muttered never a weird. The next was beautiful and gay : He had no word to say. The third was wroth and rusty red, Yet not a word he said. gI
‘‘ Friend! neither man nor woman owns This being’s high perception, owed Only to Truth; nor beams nor stones Support the Arahat’s abode. Who grasps one truth, beholds one light, Becomes that truth, that light; discedes From dark and deliquescent night, From futile thoughts and fatuous deeds. Your girl, your gems, your mournful tones Irk not perfection with their goad. One thing I know—a set of bones Is travelling on upon this road !” 98
…ere is no more to hear. They perish not; they do not thrive. They are at rest, alive, The Seven Wise Men of Martaban; And, moribund, the man. 95
BANZAI! THERE leapt upon a breach and laughed A royally maniac man. A bitter craft Is mine, he saith, O soldiers of Japan ! I am the brothel-knave of death, The grimly courtesan. Now who will up and kiss her lips, Or grip her breast and bone? The subtle life she shears and snips Is harder gained than gone; The lover’s laughter whom she clips Is but a dying groan. She lieth not on a gilded bed In the city without the city. 82
…ste the sweetmeat find it cloy. ‘* All things are ill,” the dotard sang. Who stir the serpent feel the fang. ‘*All is a dream!” the wise man spake. Who grasp the bubble find it break. Aye, to all three the saga saith: There is no joy in life but death. There is this limit set to lust: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. O fools and blind that sickly strive To amass, to glut yourselves, to swive, 46
…s being but of one Thing only, his sun-whitened skeleton. II. A dainty lady sick of simple life, Chained to the cold couch of some vapid man, Put on her jewels, off the word of wife, Resolved to play the painted courtesan; 96
… THE King-Ghost is abroad. His spectre legions Sweep from their icy lakes and bleak ravines Unto these weary and untrodden regions Where man lies penned among his Might-have- beens. Keep us in safety, Lord, What time the King-Ghost is abroad! The King-Ghost from his gray malefic slumbers Awakes the malice of his bloodless brain. He marshals the innumerable numbers Of shrieking shapes on the sepulchral plain. Keep us, for Jesu’s sake, What time the King-Ghost is awake! 1 <)