Cambridge Poets 1900–1913

Aleister Crowley . THE GOAD . AMSTERDAM , December 23rd , 1897. ET me pass out beyond the city gate . All day I loitered in the little streets Of black worn houses tottering, like the fate That hangs above my head even now , and meets Prayer and defiance as not hearing it. They lean , these old black streets ! a little sky Peeps through the gap, the rough stone path is lit Just for a little by the sun , and I Watch his red face pass over , fade away To other streets , and other passengers , See him take pleasure where the heathen pray , See him relieve the hunter of his furs , All the wide world awaiting him , all folk Glad at his coming , only I must weep ; Rest he or sink , my weary eyes invoke Only the respite of a little sleep ; Sleep , just a little space of sleep , to rest The fevered head and cool the aching eyes ; Sleep for a space , to fall upon the breast Of the dear God , that He may sympathize . Long has the day drawn out ; a bitter frost Sparkles along the streets ; the shipping heaves With the slow murmur of the sea , half lost In the last rustle of forgotten leaves . Over the bridges pass the throngs ; the sound , Deep and insistent , penetrates the mist 50