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…““T thought I was worth something!” Yes, you are; ‘Worth what the jeweller and the old-clothes-man ‘And the pork-butcher offer. Soul's a star, (And that is why no woman ever loathes man.) Tf you've that star, how could I “ guess it, say,” From the inspection of your Milky Way?
…e and lust still oozing from the pores. Of her fat flanks; then, let my hate eclipse All other lamps of my pale soul, and flare— A curst star sparking in the strangled air! Her shapeless limbs are sticky with stale sweat; Yet, she would wake if I withdrew, belch hard The ferments of the fodder, turn, and fret This inch that is the ruins of a yard. Is there no sparrow, ram, ass, bull can stay The “ love"—dear Jesus |—of Chicago May? u Like salt pools in a marsh her skin is, soiled With labours and abortions, stained and red With her low birth an…
…‘Yet this, that is not love, corrodes ‘That self, or clouds it. Lead me far From earth to the unmoved abodes ‘That lie beyond the utmost star! Ah, no! the martyr asks his Lord For martyrdom as his reward. Give me my pain, and let me keep My love! T have no fear to lose My hate: While now she lies asleep, T have one moment's power to choose. I choose the cross. My love shall gain ‘The price of all my Judas-pain. Il Pure hate is like pure love, a calm, a flow Of the pure spirit in a single stream; No wave disturbs its depth ; no gleam or glow Of …
…might love! Ah! then my heart flings free to flare afar Beyond the fierce phantastic flames of foam To Her, for strength and constancy a star, For magick she's the moon! to Her! to Home! “Blow, blow, thou wintry wind !"—and blow away ‘The last foul fetich of Chicago May! PART IV—CHERBOURG Max Yes: Iam you, but for a moment only. ‘That leaves an ache: that leaves me less than man, ‘That leaves me more than God, too sad, too lonely To do no matter what. Since love began With the partition of the first one thing ‘That was itself, there is no hope …
…al tears. Vile, mean, debauched, a mass of muck you are: “Tis you, and none but you, I came to save. Tleave in heaven my maiden, my sole star; For you I give my godhead to the grave. Dung that you are, you have given me the key To Christ's heart—ob | unveil the Graal for me! What! you are past redemption thief and whore? It is for you I must give up my life. My maid is pure and true; she needs no more. You are the bitch that I must make my wife. Tlove her. Yes: then just that love demands Renunciation. Ay! love understands. 7