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Page 1 of 11898 · PDF PAGE 31
THE RAINBOW 25 With virtue Thy likeness we cover, With priestcraft we mock at Thy power, And the meanest on earth is a lover, As vile as a flower. Come down through the visionless aether, And watch for the sprout of the grain Hid dark in the wonder beneath her, A marvel of passion and pain ; Smite power from on high into mortals, Draw spirit to spirit and nigher, That winds burst the wonderful portals And tongues as of fire. O Life of the stars in their glory, O Light of the passionate spring, How sweet and supreme is thy story, Most Wonderful,…
1898 · PDF PAGE 58
52 YET TIME TO TURN O little root of nobleness left thus Dead, since it has no power to grow, to bloom ; Live, since I may not bury it within The gaping tomb Where virtue lies, that I, imperious, Long since interred with hope, and all life’s joy save sin.
1898 · PDF PAGE 82
… death and to shame. Heaven and hell has striven in war, Sappho and Hylas, with Christ and Jah ; We are of those, though they lose their power, Never shall fade their fiery flower.
1898 · PDF PAGE 56
… like a flower To breathe upon my face that clings to thee ! O wanton breasts that heave deliciously And tempt my eager teeth ! Oh cruel power Of wide deep thighs that make me furious As they enclasp me and swing to and fro With passion that grows pale and drives the flow Of the fast fragrant blood of both of us Into the awful link that knits us close With chain electric ! O have mercy yet In drawing out my life in this desire To consummate this moment all the gross Lusts of to-night, and pay the sudden dept That with strong water shall put out…
1898 · PDF PAGE 88
…ot kisses Stray to and fro amid the wildernesses Of swart curled locks ! I deem it a sweet sin, So sweet that fires of hell have no more power On body and soul to quench the lustrous flame Of that desire that burns between us twain. What is Eternity, seeing we hold this hour For all the lusts and luxuries of shame ? Heaven is well lost for this surpassing gain.
1898 · PDF PAGE 92
…-clothed memory, some secret redolence of gloom, Some darkling murmurous song of lust quite strange to man and beast and bird, Silent in power, not overheard by any snake that eats the dust : No crimson-hooded viper knows, no silver-crested asp has guessed The strange soft secrets of my breast ; no leprous cobra shall disclose The many-seated, multiform, divine, essential joys that these Dank odours bring, that starry seas wash white in vain ; intense and warm
1898 · PDF PAGE 44
…or you ; appeal In vain to his shed blood ; nor pray I will not slay. “ I will most utterly destroy Your souls from off the earth ; your power Sealed by your Satan I will cloy With subtle strength ; your church shall flower No further hour. “ Because ye set your hands to this, Blaspheming nature and my name,
1898 · PDF PAGE 95
… my desires, if aught thou wilt, are with thy mind, and thy account With God shall bear my name the more ; give me the knowledge, me the power For some new sin one little hour, and bankrupt God the creditor : Steal from his stock of suffering ; his tender mercies rob at will ; Destroy his graciousness, until he must avenge the name of king. Strange fascinations whirl and wind about my spirit lying coils ;
1898 · PDF PAGE 99
…forget. I would have pitied him. This flower spits blood upon him, so must I Cast ashes through the misty sky to mock his faded crown of power,
1898 · PDF PAGE 22
…ism, Necrophilia, all the mad- dest, fiercest vices that the mind of fiends ever brought up from the pit. But always to the very end his power is unexhausted, immense, terrible. His delirium does not amuse ; it appals ! A man who could conceive as he did must himself have had some glorious chord in his heart vibrating to the eternal principle of Bound- less Love. That this love was wrecked is for me, in some sort a relative of his, a real and bitter sorrow. He might have been so great ! He missed Heaven ! Think kindly of him !
1898 · PDF PAGE 81
…t, fearful and murderous tongue. Hell is the house of all delight, Heaven the home of a bitter blight ; Pain is our joy and our spirits’ power, Never shall fade its fiery flower. Now is the triumph of Love, gazing far to an infinite pleasure, Pleasure that mocks Heaven’s hopes, that our hands are impatient to hold. Love and delight pouring out, in a fearless insatiate measure, Out of the chalice of lust, scarlet o’errunning its gold. This is the song of the Spring, that the nightingales carol by starlight, This the delight of our eyes, as they …
1898 · PDF PAGE 79
…mbrace, a fadeless implacable bliss. Love is a sword whose blade is red, Love is a deed whose fruit is dead ; Love is a tiger, fierce of power, Easily fades a spring-tide flower. Death shall come slow and soft, with the stealthy tread of a leopard ; While the few stars have grown dim, as he seeks for an innocent prey. Death shall pounce soon on the fold, where Love was a treacherous shepherd ; So with hot lips shall he come, ere the mountains are silver and grey. Life shall gasp out in the gloom, and all our desires shall perish ; Hope and its …
1898 · PDF PAGE 35
…and our arms again Slowly unclasp, and our fair cheeks do flush With memory’s modesty. The mountains glow Warmer and whiter, dreamland’s power shall wane While the sun tints the beauty of the bush And all the forest with his finger-tips
1898 · PDF PAGE 133
…od’s fan Is eager on my threshing-floor ; his rod Smites no vain stroke. Oh, how I curse thee, God ! What is my aid ? But yet to Satan’s power I lend my utmost vigour for an hour, To wrest Thy damned throne from out thy hands ! My aid ? How shall I burst thy bitter bands, Strike off thy shackles, from thy fetters break, I, whom Thy name appals, whose vitals quake At the dim thought of Thee ? Have mercy, Christ ! Who suffered on the cross, who sacrificed Thy heaven for three hours. Ah ! pity me, For years, not hours, condemned to agony Thrice Th…
1898 · PDF PAGE 19
…e found “ shelter for songs that recede.” Still, even here, one is, on the whole, more attracted than repelled ; the author has enormous power, and he never scruples to use it, to drive us half mad with horror, or, as in his earlier most exquisite works, to move us to the noblest thoughts and deeds. True, his debt to contemporary writers is a little obvious