Collected Works (Vol. II)

6 ORACLES Why not the Devil’s portrait Graven in Walham Green? Why with the bare suggestion Dare we insult our Queen? The flame-tongue of passion Is lambent and strong; In mystical fashion Sucks sweetness from shade, As the voice of thy song Give me the golden trumpet In the halls of the dead, Blown at the judgment-day, Closing the gate of mercy Over the Cast Away. Melt me its gold to money, Coin me that small, small ring Stamped with the Hoof of Satan, Bearing the name of King. Then, in the murky midnight, Silently lead me down, Down into Hell’s dark portals, Far in the West of Town. Then to the shrieks of devils Writhing in torments keen, Sing me the song that tells me Ever of Walham Green. Sing of the little half-sovereign Dancing in golden sheen ; Leave me in Hell—or, better, Leave me in Walham Green. ODE TO SAPPHO. O LESBIAN maiden ! O pluméd and snowlike in glory of white- | ness ! O mystical brightness With love-lyrics laden ! Joy’s fulness is fainting for passion and sorrow, To-night melts divine to the dawn of to-morrow, O Lesbian maiden ! Breaking fitful and wild, Weird waking the slumber of Venus, the sleep of her child, O Lesbian maiden ! Thy tongue reaches red On that pillar of might ! Flaming gold from thy head Is a garland of light On the forehead of night, As we lie and behold All the wonders untold That the joys of desire In their secrets enfold, As the pillars of fire On the ocean of old! O Lesbian maiden ! The delight of thy lips Is the voice of the Spring That the nightingales sing Over Winter's eclipse, While my fingers enring The white limbs of thy sleep And my lips suck the lips Of the house of my dream, And press daintily deep, Till the joys are supreme That thine amorous mouth On the home of thy love Would exhaust the fierce drouth Of the rivers thereof, Till thy white body quiver With mystic emotion As the star-blossoms shiver. On silvery river Rushed into the ocean ! O Lesbian maiden !