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Page 1 of 11907 · PDF PAGE 90
…INT-ANTOINE N mystic dolour wrapt, the ascetic turns His vague untutored thought to love, and sees Himself exalted at the amber knees Of God the Father: his bowed forehead burns With chastity’s white star: no spirit yearns More keenly from the abyss; yet, God! are these Subtle star-sparks of spirit chastity’s? - These deep-set shiverings saint nor sage discerns ? Laughter and love are over him, entice His life to sweeter scent of sacrifice. She knows God’s will, not he! Her ardour licks Flowers from the dust. O fool! that, heavy of breath, Dost…
1907 · PDF PAGE 76
…lows, Simple and sacred, with no thought of sin, Yet born to trouble us, to fascinate. Here we are, back i’ th’ springtime of the earth; God above man; and above God, dire fate. Ancient cosmogony of peace and mirth! Careless, we careless, do invoke thy rime Of the ancient rapture of the olden time. 48
1907 · PDF PAGE 97
…s the gray battlefield of ancient thought, The market places of intelligence, Save need and greed; whose royal words incense The jealous God of Israel is distraught. No jewels in the casket nobly wrought. The shrine is grand; the god is ravished thence. On clawing hands and hardened knees the King Exists, no more; is it a little thing? King Demos, hear my parable! We pass, We poets, see you grovel at our feet, Despise our love, and tender flesh, and wheat, Clamour for lust, and carrion, and grass. 61
1907 · PDF PAGE 79
… mine to-day: these groves are fit for Pan— O rich with Bacchic frenzy and his wine’s Atonement for the infinite woe of man! Is there no God of Vital Art to dwell Serene, enshrined, incensed, adored of us? Were not a cemetery His citadel? His treasure-house some barred sarcophagus? And here his mighty and reverend high-priest Bade me good cheer, an eager acolyte, Poured the high wine, unveiled the mystic feast ;— Swooped the plumed anguish of inveterate night; Devouring torture of insight shot. Night hovered; Dawn smote. I bowed—O God declared,…
1907 · PDF PAGE 57
EPERVIER ET COLOMBE HEN, at the awful Judgment-day, God stands Shrunken and shaking at my gaze, before My hollow seat of agony, it may be He shall discover me the great excuse For an ill world ill shapen by ill hands, For unit joy and misery ten score, For all his work’s complaint; I think that He, Twitching His fearful fingers, may let loose This answer: Thus a kiss I brought to being Which by no other way were possible. Measure, O man! Balance with eyes true seeing If I were right or no to have made Hell! Then would He stand forgiven—nay! acq…
1907 · PDF PAGE 103
…conscious nod. But I abode without the spell; saw these— Diverse harmonies of identical keys!— And these were thus: but Rodin heard like God. 67
1907 · PDF PAGE 80
SYRINX AND PAN YRINX is caught upon the Arcadian field. The god’s grip huddles her girl breasts: his grim And gnarléd lips grin forth the soul of him.- The imprint of his bestial heart is sealed And stamped armorial on her virgin shield, Fame’s argent heraldry despoiled. Grows dim For her the universe: supple and slim She slides in vain. She loathes him—and doth yield. Shame, sorrow, these be sire and dam of song. Fatality, O Nature, is thy name. Along the accurséd river, stagnant shame, Eddying woe, from rape and godly wrong, Springs the immor…
1907 · PDF PAGE 89
…nows the utmost now: what waters white She held from heaven’s crystal fountains; flight Of what celestial birds struck down:—Ah me! What god or demigod hath struck remorse Into that close-crouched, cold, and desolate corse, Wailing her violate virginity ? SY / I
1907 · PDF PAGE 78
…a stammer Of inarticulate rage. The wounded man Twisted in agony beneath her squirms To hear her raucous blasphemies outspan The grip of God at this his last of terms. Yea! he must die with horror in his ears, Hate in his heart. The mischief must endure. He hath expiated naught by death. His tears, His thoughts, these strike nor stay her not, be sure! She is Madness, and a fury; though were gone All life to war, she would scream on—scream on. 50
1907 · PDF PAGE 38
…By the sweat dropping slow From the brows of thy anguish, we see what the weight of it did To the patient despair of the brain. Shall no God strike a blow? Shall no hero be found the unbearable burden to rid ? And if these be extinct—'tis a fiend that laughs eager and low: “Shall beauty avail thee, Caryatid ?” 22
1907 · PDF PAGE 101
… lust to entice The insane to filthier raptures, carrion spice Of ordure for perfume, bloom there, fixed bold By the calm of the Master, god-like to behold The horror with firm chisel and glance of ice. Ay! and the petty and the sordid soul, A servile whore’s deformed debauchery,? Grins from the image. Let posterity From Rodin’s art guess Mirbeau’s heart, extol The lethal chamber men ere then will find For the pimp’s pen and the corrupted mind. 1 Le jardin des supplices, par Octave Mirbeau. 2 Les mémoires d’une femme de chambre, par Octave Mirb…
1907 · PDF PAGE 37
…urn of the torso for poets to see is hid from the lesser and dull—hidden from me. She squats, and is void and null; I know her not; ' As God is above, but more so, she sits, to blot Intelligence out of my brain, conceit from my ken; And I class myself, idle and vain, with the newspaper men. 21
1907 · PDF PAGE 58
…of echoing kisses; hear the sound Of glutted raptures break in the profound, The abyss of time: upsurge the dead. Why hide Thy sorrowful god’s brow, O sculptor, mage, Child of eternity, father of an age? 34