The Sword of Song

THE SWORD OF SONG 4 Shields ? Be they paper, paint, lath ? They shall cover Well as they may, the big heart of a lover ! Swords ? Let the lightning of Truth strike the fortress Frowning of God ! I will sever one more tress Off the White Beard22 with his son’s blood besprinkled, Carve one more gash in the forehead23 hate-wrinkled:— So, using little arms, earn one day better ones; Cutting the small chains,24 learn soon to unfetter one’s Limbs from the large ones, walk forth and be free!— So much for Browning ! and so much for me ! Pray do not ask me where I stand ! “Who asks, doth err.”25 At least demand No folly such as answer means ! “But if” (you26 say) “your spirit weans Itself of milk-and-water pap, And one religion as another O’erleaps itself and falls on the other;27 You’ll tell me why at least, mayhap, Our Christianity excites Especially such petty spites As these you strew throughout your verse.” The chance of birth! I choose to curse (Writing in English28) just the yoke Of faith that tortures English folk. I cannot write29 a poem yet To please the people in Tibet; But when I can, Christ shall not lack Peace, while their Buddha I attack.30 Yet by-and-by I hope to weave A song of Anti-Christmas Eve And First- and Second- Beast-er Day. There’s one*31 who loves me dearly (vrai !) Who yet believes me sprung from Tophet, Either the Beast or the False Prophet; And by all sorts of monkey tricks Adds up my name to Six Six Six. Retire, good Gallup !32 In such strife her Superior skill makes you a cipher ! 1 Crowley’s mother. 70 75 80 85 90 95 100 105 His achievement. Plan of poem. “Connspuez Dieu!” Apology for manner of poem. A chance for Tibet. Hopes. Iden- tity of poet. Attention drawn to my highly decora- tive cover.