Collected Works (Vol. I)

I1z2 MYSTERIES: LYRICAL AND DRAMATIC We are wild serpents in a ring of fire ; Our necks stretch out, our haggard eyes aspire In desperation ; from the fearful line Our coils revulse in impotence and ire. An idle song it was the poet sang, A quavering note—no brazen kettle’s clang, But gentle, drooping, tearful. Nay, achieve ! I can remember how the finish rang Clear, sharp, and loud; the harp is glad to die And give the clarion one note silver-high. It was too sweet for music, and I weave In vain the tattered woof of memory. Ashes and dust ! Cold cinders dead ! Our swords are rust ; Our lives are fled Like dew on glass. In vain we lust ; Our hopes are sped, Alas ! alas! From heaven we are thrust, we have no more trust. Alas ! Gold hairs and gray ! Red lips and white! Warm hearts, cold clay ! Bright day, dim night ! Our spirits pass Like the hours away. We have no light, Alas! alas! We have no more day, we are fain to say Alas ! In Love’s a cure For Fortune’s hate ; In Love’s a lure Shall laugh at Fate ; We have tolled Death’s knell ; All streams are pure ; We are new-create ; All’s well, all’s well! We have God to endure, we are very sure All’s well ! In such wise rang the challenge unto Death With clear high eloquence and happy breath ; So did a brave sad heart grow glad again And mock the riddle that the dead Sphinx saith. When I am dead, remember me for this That I bade workers work, and lovers kiss ; Laughed with the Stoic at the dream of pain, And preached with Jesus! the evangel—bliss. When I am dead, think kindly. song? ’Twas the poor utterance of an eager tongue ; I stutter in my rhyme? my heart was full Of greater longings, more divinely wrung Frail my By love and pity and regret and trust, High hope from heaven that God will be just, Spurn not the child because his mind was dull, Still less condemn him for his father’s lust. Yet I think priests shall answer Him in vain : Their gospel of disgrace, disease, and pain, Shall move His heart of Love to such a wrath— O Heart! again ! Turn back and look on Love Behold, I have seen visions, and dreamed dreams! My verses eddy in slow wandering streams, Veer like the wind, and know no certain path— Yet their worst shades are tinged with dawn- ing beams ! 1 The all sion betrays Crowley's ignorance (at this time) of the results of modern criticism of the New Testament.