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Page 13 of 1281905 · PDF PAGE 12
…DAMA 5 And lose ourselves, together, far above . The highest heaven, in one sweet lover’s kiss, So sweet, so strong, That with it all my soul should unto him belong. XXIV. An ecstasy to which no life respends, Is the enormous secret I have learned : When self-denial’s furnace- flame has burned Through love, and all the agonising bonds That hold the soul within its shell are turned ‘To water weak ; ‘hen may desires obtain the cypress crown they seek. XXV. Browning attained, I think, when Evelyn Hope Gave no response to his requickening kiss ; In…
1901 · PDF PAGE 83
…ere, go; I give you to his monster kisses! Take her, my God, my God, my infamy, My love, my master! take the fruit of me! —Shrieks every soul and every demon hisses ! Out! out! the ghastly torches of the feast! Let darkness hide us and the night discover The shameless mysteries of God grown beast, The nameless blasphemy, the sliméd East— Sin incarnated with a leprous lover! “Hoc est enim ”’—the victim! ah! my womb, My womb has borne the victim! Now I queen it To-night upon the damned—thy love makes room, My goat-head godhead, for my hecatomb ! …
1907 · PDF PAGE 8
… In Bacchic race, phantastical embrace, Upon the sepulchres, the dizzy seas Of this my mind, Sabbatic rout that spanned These straits my soul ! Ay, they are dead and drowned (And damned, I doubt !) Ah God ! I am exhaust In the red moons holocaust ! God ! God ! The chasms secret and profound Suck down the porphyry flood Of your maniacal, ensorcelled blood That maddens and bewitches. My life is suffocatednow I swoon I die ! I am in hell, red hell, red hell, Circles me closer ; all the souls afire As if the boreal moon With all the icy Lapland…
1903 · PDF PAGE 67
We love, and keep ourselves apart : Mouth unto mouth, heart unto heart, Thus ever, never otherwise. The soul is out of me, and swings In desperate and strange surmise About the inmost heart of things. This is all strange : but is not life, Death, all, most strange, not to be told, Not to be understood by strife Of brain, nor bought for gleaming gold, Nor known by aught but love? And love Far from resolving soul to sense, Stands isolated and above Immaculate, alone, intense, Concentrate on itself. But should The lesser leave me, as it might ; Th…
1930 · PDF PAGE 90
…port of this controlled rapture, ought not to allow his mind to loosen its grip on the astral imagery of the Star-spate, Will-Symbol, or Soul-symbol, or even to forget its duty to the body and the sensible surroundings. Nor should he omit to keep his Body of Light in close touch with the phenonema of its own plane, so that its privy consciousness may fulfil its proper functions of protecting his scattered ideas from obsession. But he should hâve acquired, by previous practice, the faculty of. detaching these éléments of his consciousness from t…
1901 · PDF PAGE 139
…s a mist of blood. O Hathoor, Lady of the West, Take thy sad lover to thy breast ! Even the perfumes of the dawn Intoxicate, deceive the soul. Let every shadow be withdrawn ! Let there be Light, supreme and whole ! O Ra, thou golden Lord of Day, The Sun of Righteousness display ! The burden is so hard to bear. I took too adamant a cross ; This sackcloth rends my soul to wear ; My self-denial is as dross ! O Shu, that holdest up the sky, Hold thou thy servant, lest he die !
1996 · PDF PAGE 48
…sure, we are urged to the fullest expansion of our several Natures, with special attention to those pleasures which not only express the soul, but aid it to reach the higher develop ments of that expression. The act of Love is to the bourgeois (as the “Christian” is called nowadays) a gross animal gesture which shames his boasted humanity. The appetite drags him at its hoofs; it tires him, dis gusts him, diseases him, makes him ridiculous even in his own eyes. It is the source of nearly all his neuroses. Against this monster he has devised tw…
1902 · PDF PAGE 123
…ood and brain, Mere bitter fruit of pain Sought in the darkness of an harlot's bed, To make me as one dead : To loose the girders of the soul, and gain Breathing and life for the Intelligible ; Find death, yet find it living. Deep as Hell I plunged the soul ; by all blind Heaven unbound The spirit, freed, pierced through the maze profound, And knew Itself, an eagle for a dove. So in one man the height and deep of love Joined, in two states alternate (even so Are life and death)—shall one unite the two, My long impulsive strife ? Did I find life…
1910 · PDF PAGE 70
THE GARDEN OF EROS. I7 Where past the star points the pole Rest the unstirred axis of the soul. CHRYSIPPUS Hear then ! By Abrasax ! the bar Of the unshifting star Is broken — Io ! Asar ! My spirit is wrapt in the wind of light ; It is whirled away on the wings of night, Sable-plumed are the wonderful wings, But the silver of moonlight subtly springs Into the feathers that flash with the pace Of our flight to the violate bounds of space. Time is dropt like a stone from the stars : Space is a chaos of broken bars : Being is merged in a furious fl…
1912 · PDF PAGE 292
…ad] Sit and watch by her side an hour. This is her bookshelf by her bed ; Nietzsche, Weininger, Schopenhauer, Small wonder then that her soul should pass ! Much remains to be changed, I think: She died of the swollen head, alas ! That maidens catch from Maeterlinck, II Sixteen years old when she died 1 A Vestal, tending Minerva’s flame; It was not her time to read ; beside, Her life had hardly a hope or aim, Nor duties enough, nor little cares; She was never quiet; her mind was astir, Το Henrik Ibsen she said her prayers, And she worshipped Edwa…
1912 · PDF PAGE 292
…ad] Sit and watch by her side an hour. This is her bookshelf by her bed ; Nietzsche, Weininger, Schopenhauer, Small wonder then that her soul should pass ! Much remains to be changed, I think: She died of the swollen head, alas ! That maidens catch from Maeterlinck, II Sixteen years old when she died 1 A Vestal, tending Minerva’s flame; It was not her time to read ; beside, Her life had hardly a hope or aim, Nor duties enough, nor little cares; She was never quiet; her mind was astir, Το Henrik Ibsen she said her prayers, And she worshipped Edwa…
1901 · PDF PAGE 90
78 THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. SYNTHESIS. HEN I think of the hundreds of women I have loved from time to time, White throats and living bosoms where a kiss might creep or climb, Smooth eyes and trembling fingers, faint lips or mur- derous hair, All tunes of love’s own music, most various and rare ; When I look back on life, as a mariner on the deep Sees, tranced, the white wake foaming, fancies the nereids weep ; As, on a mountain summit in the thunders and the snow, I look to the shimmering valley and weep : I loved you so ! For a moment cease the win…
1903 · PDF PAGE 59
… its perch That sang to us, and sang a lie. Did Rodin strip the clothes, and find A naked truth fast underneath ? Never! Where lurks the soul and mind ? What is the body but a sheath? Did he ply forceps, scalpel, saw, Tear all the grace of form apart, Intent to catch some final law Behind the engine of the heart? He tried not ; whoso has, has failed. So, did I pry beneath the robe, Till stubborn will availed, nor quailed, Intimate with the naked probe ? I know the husks to strip ; name, form, Sensation, then perception, stress Of nature thither…
1910 · PDF PAGE 47
…ryads frightened and dumfoundered Fled into space Like to a demon-kings was grown my maiden face ! IX At last I came unto the well, my soul. In that still glass, I saw no sign Of him, and yetwhat visions there uproll To cloud that mirror-soul of mine ? Above my head there screams a flying scroll Whose word burnt through My being as when stars drop in black disastrous dew. X For in that scroll was written how the globe Of space became ; of how the light
1912 · PDF PAGE 255
ON—ON—“ POET ” Hail ! Poet prend ton lute—Je disparaitre, No more together we’ll enter the Enchanted garden of make—believe, Nor my sad soul listen While thine deceive. No more you'll be the God of Sacrifice, Nor I the crucified Ah, Garden of Allah—how bitter sweet Thy fruit. Why breakest thou the heart? Why spoilest thou the soul with notes From thy golden lute? Lo ! our garden a common room, Our Chinese god burnt clay, and The singing of verses a funeral hymn That awakes with awakening day. ’Twas all such a meaningless play, Poet prend ton lure…
1912 · PDF PAGE 255
ON—ON—“ POET ” Hail ! Poet prend ton lute—Je disparaitre, No more together we’ll enter the Enchanted garden of make—believe, Nor my sad soul listen While thine deceive. No more you'll be the God of Sacrifice, Nor I the crucified Ah, Garden of Allah—how bitter sweet Thy fruit. Why breakest thou the heart? Why spoilest thou the soul with notes From thy golden lute? Lo ! our garden a common room, Our Chinese god burnt clay, and The singing of verses a funeral hymn That awakes with awakening day. ’Twas all such a meaningless play, Poet prend ton lure…
1902 · PDF PAGE 145
…ries, &c. Jezebel. [Out of print. An Appeal to the American People. The Mother's Tragedy, &c. {Privately Printed.) Carmen Saeculare. The Soul of Osiris.
1902 · PDF PAGE 105
But me ! I burn with love ! My lips are wan ! Thy face is turned— I flame ! I melt ! I fall ! My heart is chilled and dark ; My soul's ethereal spark Is dulled for sorrow ; my despairs recall At last Thy name, O gracious Paphian, Lady of Mercy to the love of man ! Come, come, immortal, of the many thrones ! Sparrows and doves in chariot diamonded Drawn through the midmost air ! O Lady of despair, Who bound the golden helmet of Thy head ? Whose voice rings out the pitiful low tones : "Who, who hath wronged thee? And my power atones. " She who no…
1913 · PDF PAGE 22
…ds and quick , At the coming of the dawn, Generously have sprinkled thick Pearls and diamonds on the lawn. ODE ON NIGHT. Do you know the soul of night ? It is more unfathomable than the mind of a woman , It is more beautiful than her body . For night is as strong as a virgin in the prime of her womanhood , She is as tender as a mother with her babe at breast. My soul was aflame for her love . I went out to her and reached up but was unworthy . I strove for her as a river that strives towards a wide ocean . I caught at the jewels in her hair , b…
1909 · PDF PAGE 20
… is far more of a! than all previous !’s whatever, for all its ? form. And the name of that Question is Nibbana. Take this matter of the soul. When Mr. Judas McCabbage asks the Man in the Street why he believes in a soul, the Man stammers out that he has always heard so; naturally McCabbage has no difficulty in proving to him by biological methods that he has no soul; and with a sunny smile each passes on his way. 128