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Page 9 of 1291913 · PDF PAGE 193
…ilies rimmed with blood, With blood ; and the bitter flood Of thy tears is dying away, away, away, Beyond the hills, the hidden hills of day. These are but lilies, O my silent god ; Where thy feet have trod Upon the earthly way They have sprung, And the songs that have been sung Are faded with the day. My little heap of ashes, thou wast god, Yea, utterly wast thou god! So there are no more roses, no more roses ; There shall be no more songs to thee, Lord of the lilies and the silent sea Of Time. No rime This night brings to thee: closes The hou…
1904 · PDF PAGE 1
…NTITLED A CHILD OF EPHRAIM* CHESTERTON’S COLOSSAL COLLAPSE * The Children of Ephraim, being armed, and carrying bows, turned back in the day of battle.
1930 · PDF PAGE 55
…denied by those very engineers accounted most expert to give their opinions. The method of divination, the ratio of it, is as obscure to-day as was that of spectrum analysis a génération ago. That the Chemical composition of the fixed stars should become known to man seemed an insane imagining too ridiculous to discuss. To-day it seems equally irrational to enquire of the desert sand concerning the fate of empires. Yet surely it, if any one knows, should know! To-day it may Sound impossible for inanimate objects to reveal the inmost secrets of …
1912 · PDF PAGE 255
…den lute? Lo ! our garden a common room, Our Chinese god burnt clay, and The singing of verses a funeral hymn That awakes with awakening day. ’Twas all such a meaningless play, Poet prend ton lure—Je disparaitre. Hail I Poet, take my hand—we’ll walk Still a little way. I’ll not desert thee at the close of day, I, too, must pray A beggar asking alms of passers-by, Does not refuse a drink to one who 's dry That once by him did lie. Poet, come closerbefore I leave for aye Take thou my hand, we’ll walk still A little way. 213
1912 · PDF PAGE 255
…den lute? Lo ! our garden a common room, Our Chinese god burnt clay, and The singing of verses a funeral hymn That awakes with awakening day. ’Twas all such a meaningless play, Poet prend ton lure—Je disparaitre. Hail I Poet, take my hand—we’ll walk Still a little way. I’ll not desert thee at the close of day, I, too, must pray A beggar asking alms of passers-by, Does not refuse a drink to one who 's dry That once by him did lie. Poet, come closerbefore I leave for aye Take thou my hand, we’ll walk still A little way. 213
1903 · PDF PAGE 10
…t Christmas. Wet The cold cheek numbs itself. A way Is here to make—an end of all ? What sadness closes in between Your eyes and mine to-day, my Queen?
1906 · PDF PAGE 71
REINCARNATION 65 THE SECOND DAY. ‘* Keep you in the rear of your affection Out of the shot and danger of desire."’ Hamlet. I wAs so hopeless that I turned away And gave my love to foul oblivion, . Shuttered my bosom’s window from the sun, Kindled a corpse-light and proclaimed ‘*The day!” ; Lurked in Aeaean! fens to elude the ray Whose beauty might disturb me: I did shun. The onyx eyes that saw me not as one Possible even for a moment’s play. Thus I was tangled in some house of hell, Giving mine own soul’s beauty up to lust, Hoping to build some…
1907 · PDF PAGE 163
…re form , a horror fed on the blood of children , the virility of youths , the chastity of maidens . Hardly a single evil of the present day , if traced back a few hundred years , and frequently not half so long as that , but finds its birth in some cor ruption practised by the Harlot of the seven hills , or the Monster of the six wives . It is only necessary to study such works as those of Buckle or Draper , of White or Stewart Ross , or better still , if time permits , those of ecclesiastical historians , written by the pens of divines , to b…
1909 · PDF PAGE 143
…. A voice came out of a cloud to me, Saying, ‘‘ Hast thou brought thy heart with thee?” And much I marvelled, and won a song, And so the day passed by. VII I was a shepherd in other days, Ere ever the earth was old ; I wandered far into the Northern ways To bring back my sheep to the fold. Heyday ! but the time was drear and long, For I lost my pipe and my mountain-song, And all the others of my sweet lays Lost all their wonted gold. VIII Greece and Rome and the Pagan lands I knew ere the Christ was born; I whistled songs between my hands, And …
1909 · PDF PAGE 143
…. A voice came out of a cloud to me, Saying, ‘‘ Hast thou brought thy heart with thee?” And much I marvelled, and won a song, And so the day passed by. VII I was a shepherd in other days, Ere ever the earth was old ; I wandered far into the Northern ways To bring back my sheep to the fold. Heyday ! but the time was drear and long, For I lost my pipe and my mountain-song, And all the others of my sweet lays Lost all their wonted gold. VIII Greece and Rome and the Pagan lands I knew ere the Christ was born; I whistled songs between my hands, And …
1913 · PDF PAGE 229
…n the river Or the little owl in the tree . LA VECCHIA . ( To Walter Sickert , for his drawing .) THINK that that sad look of yours to - day 1 That dreamy gazing at the distances , Which keeps you standing rapt and motionless In that near present of the far away , Is full of memories and interplay Of thoughts of many days of happiness When you were swift to dance and bright of tress , That now are heavy - limbed and old and grey . near you staring at Perhaps it is the chatting of the birds In the new sun that brings to you again The thought tha…
1913 · PDF PAGE 181
…ht. Still shall I feel the wind that blows From the secret grave of thee, my Rose. IV DECADENCE TwILicut, that is the thin gray ghost of day, Holds the dim way of death ; the darkness grows More sanguine-hearted as the hour is sped, And with less light is fed; Thine hour grows, grows alway : Thou art mine, mine own, mine own, thou sanguine Rose. Thou sanguine Rose! Deep-hearted as the hour Thou bearest as a flame; more argent-shod Than the eloquent bringer of the god’s delight: Here, from the edge of night I pluck thee forth, a flower Too fair …
1913 · PDF PAGE 181
…ht. Still shall I feel the wind that blows From the secret grave of thee, my Rose. IV DECADENCE TwILicut, that is the thin gray ghost of day, Holds the dim way of death ; the darkness grows More sanguine-hearted as the hour is sped, And with less light is fed; Thine hour grows, grows alway : Thou art mine, mine own, mine own, thou sanguine Rose. Thou sanguine Rose! Deep-hearted as the hour Thou bearest as a flame; more argent-shod Than the eloquent bringer of the god’s delight: Here, from the edge of night I pluck thee forth, a flower Too fair …
1913 · PDF PAGE 560
…to immor- talize myself with the sight of the eternal truth. Let there be light! and there is light. Light, eternal as God, begins every day for all eyes that are open to see it. Truth will be eternally the invention and the creation of genius; it cries: Let there be light! and genius itself is, because light is. Genius is immortal because it understands that light is eternal. Genius contemplates truth as its work because it is the victor of light, and immortality is the triumph of light because it will be the recompense and crown of genius. Bu…
1913 · PDF PAGE 560
…to immor- talize myself with the sight of the eternal truth. Let there be light! and there is light. Light, eternal as God, begins every day for all eyes that are open to see it. Truth will be eternally the invention and the creation of genius; it cries: Let there be light! and genius itself is, because light is. Genius is immortal because it understands that light is eternal. Genius contemplates truth as its work because it is the victor of light, and immortality is the triumph of light because it will be the recompense and crown of genius. Bu…
1906 · PDF PAGE 150
ASCENSION DAY Curious posi- J] FLUNG out of chapel! * and church, tion of poet. Temple and hall and meeting-room, Venus’ Bower and Osiris’ Tomb,? And left the devil in the lurch, While God ? got lost in the crowd of gods,! And soul went down ® in the turbid tide Of the metaphysical lotus-eyed,® And I was-—anyhow, what’s the odds? or What isTruth? The life tolive? The thought to think? Shall I take refuge sald jesting In a tower like once Childe Roland {7 found, blind, deaf, huge, 10 ilate: but . Crowley waits Or in that forest of two hundred th…
1907 · PDF PAGE 51
…We get very little of the old-fashioned Christmases now. Bones. Two thousand years hence we shall all be saying the same about Bowleymas Day in the sunset of Bowleyanity. Bowley. Respect my modesty—Pyrrho-Zoroastrianism, if you please. Mrs. Bones. More coffee? Bowley. Please. You do not ask what your husband means. Mrs. Bones. I give you two up. Bones. To-day we celebrate Christ’s birth; then, Bowley’s. Bowls). I,hide my blushes in thy breast, O babe! [Does so; the child weeps] Take it, for God’s sakel [Done. The child smiles. Mrs. Bones. But I…
1910 · PDF PAGE 276
THE EQUINOX shall beget the day succeeding.” With increasing rapidity they sang in this way, day by day, the genealogy of a thousand years, and I traced on the successive generations, without a break in one link, until the rush of their procession reached a rapidity so awful as fully to typify eternity itself; and still I fled on through that burning genesis of cycles. I feel that I do not convey my meaning, but may no one else ever under- stand it better. Withered like a leaf in the breath of an oven, after millions of years I felt myself toss…
1910 · PDF PAGE 276
THE EQUINOX shall beget the day succeeding.” With increasing rapidity they sang in this way, day by day, the genealogy of a thousand years, and I traced on the successive generations, without a break in one link, until the rush of their procession reached a rapidity so awful as fully to typify eternity itself; and still I fled on through that burning genesis of cycles. I feel that I do not convey my meaning, but may no one else ever under- stand it better. Withered like a leaf in the breath of an oven, after millions of years I felt myself toss…
1928 · PDF PAGE 78
XXII THE TWILIGHT OF EVEN THE day falls; a great relief comes over the poor minds that are wearied with the days toil, and their thoughts now take on the tender and uncertain colours of the twilight. Nevertheless, from the level of the moun- tain to my balcony across the transparent clouds of even there comes a great howl, com- posed of many discordant cries, which space transforms into a mournful harmony like that of a rising tide or of a tempest which awakes. Who are these unfortunate ones to whom evening brings no calm, and who, like the ow…