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…he birth of the spirit : the flash that fades, Unveiling still, lights thee, that bloomest still Till that thou dost fulfil The old gray world, divine With the breath of thee in the cool, white colonnades. 143
…he birth of the spirit : the flash that fades, Unveiling still, lights thee, that bloomest still Till that thou dost fulfil The old gray world, divine With the breath of thee in the cool, white colonnades. 143
33 escape from Jesus. I found that the world was, after all, full of delightful damned souls; of people who accepted nature as she is, accepted their own place in nature and enjoyed it, fought mean and despicable things fairly and firmly whenever they met them. It was a period of boundless happiness for me. I had always yearned for the beauty of nature; my only friends, except animals and occasional strangers, from whom I was carefully protected, had been the skies, the streams, the mountains and the seas. For the first time in my life I was br…
…ing and brilliant court in Europe. This led to my going to St. Petersburg, a journey which worked wonders in enlarging my outlook on the world. {115} The passion for travel was already very strong in me. Home was my idea of hell; and London itself had a sordid aspect which never appealed to me. The idea of wickedness in London is connected with that of shame, and besides this there are certainly excellent reasons for a poet to feel unhappy there. To begin with, I can't stand the climate. I have known rare days in May and June when youth pays a …
… those who are thus negligent, the progress is imperfect, the impulses are vain, and the paths are dark. (Zoroaster) I solemnly warn the world that, while courage is the first virtue of the Magician, presumptuous and reckless rashness has no more connection with it than a caricature of the ex-Kaiser with Julius Caesar. It is composed partly of sham pride prompted by self-love and self-doubt; partly by the insane impulse which the extremity of fear excites. There are plenty of V.C.'s who won the cross, not "for valour", but for lack of self-cont…
…rite a new sweet volume deeper much, And frail to touch, Being the mirror of a gossamer Too soft and fair, This is the hour when all the world is sleeping ;_ The winds are keeping A lulling music on the frosty sea. The air is free,
…rcial expansion; but I who made it know that it is the baptism of blood of the New Aeon. How could we promulgate the Law of Liberty in a world where Freedom has been strangled by industrialism? Men have become such slaves that they submit to laws which would have made a revolution in any other country since the world began; they have registration cards harder to bear than iron fetters; they allow their tyrants to bar them from every pleasure that even their poverty allows them. There is only one way to turn the counter- jumper into a Curtius an…
…t, “joy! Joy! joy!" There are violet flames darting through the air, each one a little sob of happy love. One began to see what the dream~world was really for at last; every time any one kissed any one for real love, that was a little throb of violet flame in this beautiful House in the Wake-World. And we bathed and swam in the pool, and were so happy you can’t think. But they said: “Little girl, you must pay for the entertainment.” [I forgot to tell you there was music like fountains make as they rise and fall, only of course much more wonderful…
Melpomene shone in the pyre Of terrors that burned in her lyre; But all of their passion divine I lost in the life and the stress of the world ere ever the soul of me wist. But, Orpheus, thy splendider light Was the veil of thyself the more splendid. Thou leapedst as a fountain in flight, As a bird in the rainbow descended ! From the sweet single womb risen higher Did Calliope string thee her lyre, Thy mother: and veiled her in night :-— For thyself to Herself art a veil till the veils of the Heaven be rended and ended. Now, single myself as th…
… beat the white cliffs of reality In vain, because their windy strength is past And only memories weep. Why is the Finite real? And that world So larger, and more beautiful, and fleet, So free, so exquisite,
…hter of the sleeping sea ! O dusk, O sister-spirit, lend Thy wings, thy shadows, unto me ! O mother, mother, mother, bend And shroud the world in mystery That secrets of our bed forbidden Cover their faces, and be hidden. O steadfast, O mysterious bride, O woman, O divine and dead ! O wings immeasurably wide, O star, O sister of my bed ! O living lover, at my side Clinging, the spring, the fountain-head Of musical slow waters, white With thousand-folded rays of light !
…I might haply be afraid, Were it not that the Feather-maid Leads me softly by the hand, Whispers me to understand. Now (when through the world of weeping Light at last starrily creeping Steals upon my babe-new sight, LightO Light that is not light !) On my mouth the lips of her Like a stone on my sepulchre Seal my speech with ecstasy, Till a babe is born of me That is silent more than I ; For its inarticulate cry Hushes as its mouth is pressed To the pearl, her honey breast ; While its breath divinely ripples The rose-petals of her nipples, An…
…4 Yet was his heart immeasurably sad, For that no questing in his ear he had. Nay! he saw all. He saw the Curse That wrapped in ruin the World primeval. He saw the unborn Universe, And all its gods coeval. He saw, and was, all things at once In Him that is ; he was the stars, The moons, the meteors, the suns, All in one net of triune bars; Inextricably one, inevitably one, Immeasurable, immutable, immense Beyond all the wonder that his soul had won By sense, in spite of sense, and beyond sense. “Praise God!” quoth Palamede, “ by this I attain t…
…our hearts, ....the invulnerable ring. No man shall know. I bear thee down unto ....the tomb, beyond the tomb, Rose on the breast of the world of spring! I went upstairs. I began to suspect the truth, that my absolute indifference to rose, combined with my perfectly casual willingness to marry her in order to do her a service, as one might offer a stranger one's place in an omnibus, had purged her heart of its passion for the fat sensuality of Frank Summers, and hurled her head over heels in love with me. We arrived at Boleskine, where I learnt…
…treachery. ELEAZAR. Lift up your hands, all people of this land, And swear with me this oath my lips pronounce: By Wisdom, father of the world, we swear;
…eaven no sound of might, No tongue of flame gave answer. Still as night, Silence and sunlight, stream and mead, possessed The whole wide world. The maids reluctant breast Heaved with soft passion nowise understood, And her pulse quickened. Through the quiet wood Her answer rang : My voice with thine shall break The woodland stillness, for the fountains sake. Ill sing to thee—Lamia ! mother, I obey ! In vain the desperate boy pursued the way With awful eyes ; no bruiséd flower betrayed The tender footsteps of a goddess maid ; No butterfly…
…ay, I led her the beautiful way To the land where the Winds lie between. So still lingers sun upon sea, Still twilight draws down to the world ; The light of my spirit is she, The soul of her love is in me ; Lithe kisses with music are curled. Like light on the meadows we dwell ; Like twilight clings heart unto heart ; Like midnight the depth of the spell Our love weaves, and stronger than hell The guards of our palace of art.
…rough folded nenuphars. The red mouth moves, still to the word: “Yes, love!” and “yes, love!” Then I heard No sound and saw no sight—the world Folded its mighty wings, and curled Its passion round us; bade forget The joy with which our eyes were wet. All faded, folded in the bliss ; Unfolded the first fadeless kiss. Then my soul woke, not sundering lips, But winged against the black eclipse Of sense: my soul on wings did poise Her glory in the vast turquoise Of the whole sky: expanded far Beyond the farthest sun or star, Beyond all space, all t…
…ace, Under the green hills, free In the most sacred time, in the most secret place, Is thine. Oh, Wine! Wine! Wine! Sang the poet of the world. But what wine may suit thee, Thee, with thy petals curled, 136
…ace, Under the green hills, free In the most sacred time, in the most secret place, Is thine. Oh, Wine! Wine! Wine! Sang the poet of the world. But what wine may suit thee, Thee, with thy petals curled, 136