DEDICACE
You crown me king and queen. There is a name
For whose soft sound I would abandon all
This pomp. I liefer would have had you call
Some soft sweet title of beloved shame.
Gold coronets be seemly, but bright flame
I choose for diadem; I would let fall
All crowns, all kingdoms, for one rhythmical
Caress of thine, one kiss my soul to tame.
You crown me king and queen; I crown thee lover!
I bid thee hasten, nay, I plead with thee,
Come in the thick dear darkness to my bed.
Heed not my sighs, but eagerly uncover,
As our mouths mingle, my sweet infamy,
And rob thy lover of his maidenhead.
Lie close; no pity, but a little love.
Kiss me but once and all my pain is paid.
Hurt me or soothe, stretch out one limb above
Like a strong man who would constrain a maid.
Touch me; I shudder and my lips turn back
Over my shoulder if so be that thus
My mouth may find thy mouth, if aught there lack
To thy desire, till love is one with us.
God! I shall faint with pain, I hide my face
For shame. I am disturbed, I cannot rise.
I breathe hard with this breath; thy quick embrace
Crushes; thy teeth are agony – pain dies
In deadly passion. Ah! You come – you kill me!
Christ! God! Bite! Bite! Ah Bite! Love’s fountains fill me.
PREFATORY
SONNET TO THE VIRGIN MARY
Mother of God! who knowest the dire pangs
Of childbirth, and has suffered, and dost know
How utter sweet the full fruit of thy woe,
And how His heel hath crushed the serpent’s fangs,
Be with me in the birth of this my book,
These songs of mine, poor children, like to die;
Yet, if they may not perish utterly,
It is to thee for sustenance I look.
Mother of God! be with me in success,
Abide with me if peradventure fail
These faint songs, murmurs of a summer gale
That my heart clothes within a mortal dress;
And with thy sympathy, their bliss or bale
Shall be too light to shake my happiness.
A FRAGMENT
Man Hero
Maid Heroine
Her Mother
Count B
He. Draw nigh, sweet maiden, violets blush at birth,
Pale lilies tinge with crimson, as the snow
At dawn’s approach, the pansy’s darksome dye
Deepens when tender winds blow over it
And give its beauties to the summer’s gaze:
So blush at being mine, yet gently come
And place a dainty hand within my hold
Too delicate to crush it into warmth,
Save that blood mantling to thy cheek shall flow
Back to the fingers, though I press them not.
And so I will not hesitate to put
A ring upon thy hand, sweet mystery
Of Love’s device, to shadow in our hearts
Th’ Eternity of an immortal self
That is, and shall be while the stars endure,
Or while a God of Love is pitiful
Of all men’s sorrows, and most happy in
Their joys –
She. Ah! joys are fleeting! –
He. But our love
Is anchored in the portals of the dawn
Where heaven begins.
She. And heaven begins with us
This day. Behold the flowers, whose kindly gaze
Of modest love is on us as we stand,
And clasp fond hands before high Heaven to swear
Truth an eternal bond, no parchment scroll
Of perishable matter ill devised
And scored upon with perishable ink,
But in our pulses’ quick delight to live
From day to day renewed, as if a fount
Of God’s mysterious stream, that here a man
May wet his ankle, and again immerse
Unto his knees, and yet again assay
To cross its silver depth and find himself
Swimming in crystal coldness on a sea
Broad as God’s mercy and as deep as Love.
He. And whose strong tide shall bear our spirit out
Into the ocean of all happiness
Whose bounds are Heaven.
She. See! the scythe of Time
Sweeps on to cut the new-born flowers in twain
That symbolises the reluctant hour
In which we met – and now the flower is dead
And we must part.
He. Fond hearts, chaste souls, as one
Whose unity is sacred, still shall dwell
Together – Not the cold embrace
Of “We shall meet again”, but let us say
The ritual of a lover, being this
“God be with you!”
She. O heart too dear to me,
Too much beloved for lover’s tongue to tell,
God be with you! Farewell, sweet heart!
He. Farewell.
(EXEUNT).
DESUNT CETERA.
THE RAINBOW
On land wrought of starlight rain lingers
In delicate spirals and spines,
And sunlight’s immaculate fingers
Creep through the desire of the pines;
The promise is flashed into being,
Tremendous and florid and proud,
To be seen by the eyes of the seeing,
A bow in the cloud.
O flamed through the sky as a harlot
In splendour transcendent and bold,
With purple and crimson and scarlet
And azure and olive and gold!
O melting to magic and mystery,
As clouds fly to heaven again,
And holy Hyperion’s history
Is flashed into rain!
O Godhead of glory through anguish!
O Christ shone through Magdalen’s tears!
Thy sons on the universe languish
In iron bands strong as the spheres;
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, Counsellor, King!
O crucified, slain, re-arisen!
Burst open the fetters that bind,
Change from us the garb of our prison
And lighten the mind.
O Spring, tell the bountiful Giver
Thy smiles on the world are in vain;
Come down, O Lord God, and deliver
Our souls from the wheel and the chain,
That Love may lie fragrant and shaded,
And Joy may spread wings unto flight,
And Peace stand above, unupbraided,
As splendid as night.
No longer the sun shall cast shadow,
No longer the flower shall lack rain,
The word shall be fair as a meadow,
And Love know no tincture of pain;
The Glory of God shall be on us,
And over the kingdon unpriced
The Spirit of Love is upon us,
A crucified Christ!
O rapture! O glory! O gladness!
When Satan is fled from the land,
When Christ cleanses sin, and from madness
Deletes its indelible brand;
For life shall spring where they have smitten,
And Love rise from under the rod,
Till all men behold what is written,
The kingdom of God!
WITH A COPY OF ‘POEMS AND BALLADS’
Bon Pantagruel, je t’offre ces lyriques,
Vu que tu aimes, comme moi, ces mots
Des roideurs sadiques d’un grand jambot,
Des sacrées lysses de l’amour saphique.
Accepte donc comme temoin complet
D’amitié, ce petit don, qui dit
Toutes les délices de rose et lys,
Ces fleurs odorantes du sadinet!
Oublié donc, en lisant, toute faute
De moi qui écris cette dédicace
Laible, d’une lyre mal attunée;
Souviens-toi seul de l’admiration haute
Qui a fait naître, d’étemelle grace,
La fleur d’une loyale amitié.
AD LYDIAM, UT SECUM A MARITO FUGERET
1
The bird has chosen, and the world of spring
Under Love’s banner is enrolled, but thou,
Chained to the iron couch of wedlock fast,
Art mourning while all nature else doth sing
The deep delights of Love. Still on thy brow
Lurks the dark shade, thy smile is overcast
With fear of the world’s thought, and lips of love
Pale at that spectre, imminent, immense,
Cold Chastity, the child of Impotence,
And eyes grow dim with grey distrust thereof.
Forget, dear heart, forget; life’s glow is sweet:
Come to a lover’s arms that grow divine
At the first eloquent embrace of thine,
While pulses in wild unison warmly beat.
2
I know a valley walled with glistening steep
Of fire-hewn rock, and stately cliff of ice,
Filled with green lawns and forests black with pine,
Where the clear stream shall sing us into sleep
With murmuring faintly, and devine device:
Come with me there, and we will surely twine
Bright wreaths of Alpine gentian for thine head,
Those glowing tresses, auburn in the sun,
And in the night, dim fires of matchless red
To hold my love, and lead my kisses on
From night to night upon the purple bed
Of dark embraces; till the summer is gone
We will forget in love the world of tears
Whose tumult reaches not our amorous ears.
3
Come with me thither. Let the chaster snow
Blush at the sunset, when our limbs grow fain
To twine close caressing, let it blush
Redder at sunrise, when our eyelids grow
Weary of kissing, 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
Of budding fire, and we surprised will wake
While Shadow’s brush in darker colour dips,
And roam about the valley, and will take
Fresh delicate delight, with smiling lips.
4
Summer may die, but on the azure sea
That girdles warmer lands the sun will gleam;
There will we wander, over dale and how,
Sweet with green sward, faint flower, and tender tree.
There all the winter may we idly dream
Still of our love, and there forgetfulness
Of the past sorrow may steal o’er thy brow
In the new birth of stainless happiness,
Rich harvest of the blossoms desire,
Satisfied alway, yet for ever fresh
In hearts so passionate, and there may’st thou
Love to thy fulness, nor for ever tire
Of linking me to thee with dainty mesh
Of auburn ripples of delicious fire.
5
Doubt not, dear love, nor hesitate to say;
Blush if thou wilt; I love to see thy cheek
Grow hot with love-thoughts – let the word be said:
Between shy finger whisper me the “yea”!
My soul will leap to hear, as thine to speak.
Remember Love, forget the loveless bed;
Forget thy husband, and the cruel wreck
Of thy dear life on Wedlock’s piteous sands;
Love’s all in all on the golden bands
Forged in heaven without flaw or fleck.
I know thine answer by these amorous hands
That touch me thus to tempt me, by the kiss
Whose sudden passion burns upon my neck
Thy heart clings to me in perfect “Yes”!
CONTRA CONJUGIUM T. B. B.
Anathema foederis nefandi, jugeris
immondi, flagitii contra
Amorem, contra Naturam,
contra Deum, in saecula praesit
Amen! Cum comminatione pastorum improborum,
Ecclesiae malae, qui tales nuptias benedicunt.
Through nave and chancel drone the choir,
Their chant rolls through the darkened aisle;
Their song soars up beyond the spire;
The priest prepares; there waits his smile
A deed most vile.
Harken, thou fool at altar-rails
The still small awful voice of fear
Whereat earth shakes and heaven pales –
“I am the Lord”; His voice rings clear:
What dost thou here?
“Thou hast despised my laws, and stilled
The voice of Nature and my voice,
Now, shall thy life with joy be filled?
At thine own time shalt thou rejoice?
At thine own choice?
“I gave thee life, I gave thee youth,
Four seasons fair, for love the same,
Health, strength and comeliness – forsooth,
And thou hast quenched my holy flame,
And scorned my name!
“I gave thee life, life passeth by;
I gave thee youth, that youth is fled.
Thinkst thou that I will fructify
Now, at thine own good time, thy dead
And barren bed?
“How worship me, yet break my laws?
Art thou a God? Didst thou devise
The infinite world? Did thy word cause
The silver Caucasus to arise?
Art thou all-wise?
“‘Or hast thou mocked me, setting high
A molten calf, a graven block,
A fetish foul, a devil’s lie,
And worshipped that? Thou shalt not mock,
Thou barren rock!
; “Thou shalt not mock! Cold Chastity,
Father and child of Impotence,
Whom thou hast set on high for me,
From her foul shrine shall chase thee thence:
‘Avoid, get hence!’
“And I – thou shalt not scorn my word,
All Nature sets it scorn on thee;
Sweet flower and stream, swift fish and bird,
Shall chorus out ‘Thou fruitless tree!
Thou salt dry sea!’
“I will not aid thee in thine age,
Nor heed thee in thy piteous strait;
Live thou in thine own empty cage,
Forged every day that thou didst wait
Too long, too late!
“Shall I turn back the seasons past,
Recall sun’s shine and cloudlet’s fleece,
Revive the ghosts of aeons vast,
And bid the scythe of Chronos cease
For thy caprice?
“Because thou wilt, shall I accede
And change my laws that I have made
Shall I make grapes from thorn and weed,
Fresh water from the fountains stayed,
If thou hast prayed?
“For thine outcry bring chaos back,
Turn over earth and heaven to hell,
And listen ’mid the roar and wrack,
With pleasure to creation’s knell,
Thy marriage bell?
“I will not turn the Red Sea back
That thou mayst pass again dry-shod:
Thou hast chosen, thou shalt live the black
Dry years out till thou cleave the sod,
And meet thy God.
“What are thy good deeds? This one thing
Thou hast not done. This chiefest task
Thou wouldst not do. And shall the King
Of Kings do only what men ask?
Thou empty mask!
“Repentance is too late, lost fool,
Dead flower, salt fountain, rusty sword,
This curse is on thee for thy dule,
That thou shalt know and be assured
Diary of a Drug Fiend Page 80