Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

by Homer

  Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows

  From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen! 100

  XXVI

  Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,

  Before we too into the Dust descend;

  Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie

  Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and — sans End!

  XXVII

  Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, 105

  And those that after some TO-MORROW stare,

  A Muezzi´n from the Tower of Darkness cries,

  “Fools! your Reward is neither Here nor There!”

  XXVIII

  Another Voice, when I am sleeping, cries,

  “The Flower should open with the Morning skies.” 110

  And a retreating Whisper, as I wake —

  “The Flower that once has blown for ever dies.”

  XXIX

  Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss’d

  Of the Two Worlds so learnedly are thrust

  Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn 115

  Are scatter’d, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

  XXX

  Myself when young did eagerly frequent

  Doctor and Saint, and heard great argument

  About it and about: but evermore

  Came out by the same door as in I went. 120

  XXXI

  With them the seed of Wisdom did I sow,

  And with my own hand wrought to make it grow;

  And this was all the Harvest that I reap’d —

  “I came like Water, and like Wind I go.”

  XXXII

  Into this Universe, and Why not knowing 125

  Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing;

  And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,

  I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing.

  XXXIII

  What, without asking, hither hurried Whence?

  And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! 130

  Ah, contrite Heav’n endowed us with the Vine

  To drug the memory of that insolence!

  XXXIV

  Up from Earth’s Centre through the Seventh Gate

  I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate;

  And many Knots unravel’d by the Road; 135

  But not the Master-knot of Human Fate.

  XXXV

  There was the Door to which I found no Key:

  There was the Veil through which I could not see:

  Some little talk awhile of ME and THEE

  There was — and then no more of THEE and ME. 140

  XXXVI

  Earth could not answer; nor the Seas that mourn

  In flowing Purple, of their Lord forlorn;

  Nor Heaven, with those eternal Signs reveal’d

  And hidden by the sleeve of Night and Morn.

  XXXVII

  Then of the THEE IN ME who works behind 145

  The Veil of Universe I cried to find

  A Lamp to guide me through the Darkness; and

  Something then said— “An Understanding blind.”

  XXXVIII

  Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn

  I lean’d, the secret Well of Life to learn: 150

  And Lip to Lip it murmur’d— “While you live,

  Drink! — for, once dead, you never shall return.”

  XXXIX

  I think the Vessel, that with fugitive

  Articulation answer’d, once did live,

  And drink; and that impassive Lip I kiss’d, 155

  How many Kisses might it take — and give!

  XL

  For I remember stopping by the way

  To watch a Potter thumping his wet Clay:

  And with its all-obliterated Tongue

  It murmur’d— “Gently, Brother, gently, pray!” 160

  XLI

  For has not such a Story from of Old

  Down Man’s successive generations roll’d

  Of such a clod of saturated Earth

  Cast by the Maker into Human mould?

  XLII

  And not a drop that from our Cups we throw 165

  On the parcht herbage, but may steal below

  To quench the fire of Anguish in some Eye

  There hidden — far beneath, and long ago.

  XLIII

  As then the Tulip for her wonted sup

  Of Heavenly Vintage lifts her chalice up, 170

  Do you, twin offspring of the soil, till Heav’n

  To Earth invert you like an empty Cup.

  XLIV

  Do you, within your little hour of Grace,

  The waving Cypress in your Arms enlace,

  Before the Mother back into her arms 175

  Fold, and dissolve you in a last embrace.

  XLV

  And if the Cup you drink, the Lip you press,

  End in what All begins and ends in — Yes;

  Imagine then you are what heretofore

  You were — hereafter you shall not be less. 180

  XLVI

  So when at last the Angel of the Drink

  Of Darkness finds you by the river-brink,

  And, proffering his Cup, invites your Soul

  Forth to your Lips to quaff it — do not shrink.

  XLVII

  And fear not lest Existence closing your 185

  Account, should lose, or know the type no more;

  The Eternal Sa´kì from that Bowl has pour’d

  Millions of Bubbles like us, and will pour.

  XLVIII

  When You and I behind the Veil are past,

  Oh, but the long long while the World shall last, 190

  Which of our Coming and Departure heeds

  As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.

  XLIX

  One Moment in Annihilation’s Waste,

  One Moment, of the Well of Life to taste —

  The Stars are setting, and the Caravan 195

  Draws to the Dawn of Nothing — Oh make haste.

  L

  Would you that spangle of Existence spend

  About THE SECRET — quick about it, Friend!

  A Hair, they say, divides the False and True —

  And upon what, prithee, does Life depend? 200

  LI

  A Hair, they say, divides the False and True;

  Yes; and a single Alif were the clue —

  Could you but find it — to the Treasure-house,

  And peradventure to THE MASTER too;

  LII

  Whose secret Presence, through Creation’s veins 205

  Running, Quicksilver-like eludes your pains;

  Taking all shapes from Ma´h to Ma´hi; and

  They change and perish all-but He remains;

  LIII

  A moment guess’d — then back behind the Fold

  Immerst of Darkness round the Drama roll’d 210

  Which, for the Pastime of Eternity,

  He does Himself contrive, enact, behold.

  LIV

  But it in vain, down on the stubborn floor

  Of Earth, and up to Heav’n’s unopening Door,

  You gaze TO-DAY, while You are YOU — how then 215

  TO-MORROW, You when shall be You no more?

  LV

  Oh, plagued no more with Human or Divine,

  To-morrow’s tangle to itself resign,

  And lose your fingers in the tresses of

  The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine. 220

  LVI

  Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit

  Of This and That endeavour and dispute;

  Better be merry with the fruitful Grape

  Than sadden after none, or bitter, Fruit.

  LVII

  You know, my Friends, how bravely in my House 225

  For a new Marriage I did make Carouse;

  Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,

  And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

  LVIII


  For “IS” and “IS-NOT” though with Rule and Line

  And “UP-AND-DOWN” by Logic I define, 230

  Of all that one should care to fathom, I

  Was never deep in anything but — Wine.

  LIX

  Ah, but my Computations, People say,

  Have squared the Year to human compass, eh?

  If so, by striking from the Calendar 235

  Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday.

  LX

  And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,

  Came shining through the Dusk an Angel Shape

  Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and

  He bid me taste of it; and ’twas — the Grape! 240

  LXI

  The Grape that can with Logic absolute

  The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:

  The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice

  Life’s leaden metal into Gold transmute:

  LXII

  The mighty Mahmu´d, Allah-breathing Lord, 245

  That all the misbelieving and black Horde

  Of Fears and Sorrows that infest the Soul

  Scatters before him with his whirlwind Sword.

  LXIII

  Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare

  Blaspheme the twisted tendril as a Snare? 250

  A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?

  And if a Curse — why, then, Who set it there?

  LXIV

  I must abjure the Balm of Life, I must,

  Scared by some After-reckoning ta’en on trust,

  Or lured with Hope of some Diviner Drink, 255

  When the frail Cup is crumbled into Dust!

  LXV

  If but the Vine and Love-abjuring Band

  Are in the Prophet’s Paradise to stand,

  Alack, I doubt the Prophet’s Paradise

  Were empty as the hollow of one’s Hand. 260

  LXVI

  Oh threats of Hell and Hopes of Paradise!

  One thing at least is certain — This Life flies;

  One thing is certain and the rest is Lies;

  The Flower that once is blown for ever dies.

  LXVII

  Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who 265

  Before us pass’d the door of Darkness through,

  Not one returns to tell us of the Road,

  Which to discover we must travel too.

  LXVIII

  The Revelations of Devout and Learn’d

  Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn’d, 270

  Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep

  They told their fellows, and to Sleep return’d.

  LXIX

  Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,

  And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,

  Is’t not a Shame — is’t not a Shame for him 275

  So long in this Clay Suburb to abide?

  LXX

  But that is but a Tent wherein may rest

  A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;

  The Sulta´n rises, and the dark Ferra´sh

  Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest. 280

  LXXI

  I sent my Soul through the Invisible,

  Some letter of that After-life to spell:

  And after many days my Soul return’d,

  And said, “Behold, Myself am Heav’n and Hell:”

  LXXII

  Heav’n but the Vision of fulfill’d Desire, 285

  And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,

  Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,

  So late emerged from, shall so soon expire.

  LXXIII

  We are no other than a moving row

  Of visionary Shapes that come and go 290

  Round with this Sun-illumin’d Lantern held

  In Midnight by the Master of the Show;

  LXXIV

  Impotent Pieces of the Game He plays

  Upon this Chequer-board of Nights and Days;

  Hither and thither moves, and checks, and slays, 295

  And one by one back in the Closet lays.

  LXXV

  The Ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes,

  But Right or Left as strikes the Player goes;

  And He that toss’d you down into the Field,

  He knows about it all — HE knows — HE knows! 300

  LXXVI

  The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

  Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit

  Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

  Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.

  LXXVII

  For let Philosopher and Doctor preach 305

  Of what they will, and what they will not — each

  Is but one Link in an eternal Chain

  That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach.

  LXXVIII

  And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,

  Whereunder crawling coop’d we live and die, 310

  Lift not your hands to It for help — for It

  As impotently rolls as you or I.

  LXXIX

  With Earth’s first Clay They did the Last Man knead,

  And there of the Last Harvest sow’d the Seed:

  And the first Morning of Creation wrote 315

  What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

  LXXX

  YESTERDAY This Day’s Madness did prepare;

  TO-MORROW’S Silence, Triumph, or Despair:

  Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:

  Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where. 320

  LXXXI

  I tell you this — When, started from the Goal,

  Over the flaming shoulders of the Foal

  Of Heav’n Parwi´n and Mushtari they flung,

  In my predestined Plot of Dust and Soul.

  LXXXII

  The Vine had struck a fibre: which about 325

  If clings my being — let the Dervish flout;

  Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,

  That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

  LXXXIII

  And this I know: whether the one True Light

  Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, 330

  One Flash of It within the Tavern caught

  Better than in the Temple lost outright.

  LXXXIV

  What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke

  A conscious Something to resent the yoke

  Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain 335

  Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

  LXXXV

  What! from his helpless Creature be repaid

  Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay’d

  Sue for a Debt we never did contract,

  And cannot answer — Oh the sorry trade! 340

  LXXXVI

  Nay, but, for terror of his wrathful Face,

  I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;

  Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but

  Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.

  LXXXVII

  Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin 345

  Beset the Road I was to wander in,

  Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round

  Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!

  LXXXVIII

  Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,

  And ev’n with Paradise devise the Snake: 350

  For all the Sin the Face of wretched Man

  Is black with — Man’s Forgiveness give — and take!

  LXXXIX

  As under cover of departing Day

  Slunk hunger-stricken Ramaza´n away,

  Once more within the Potter’s house alone 355

  I stood, surrounded by the Shapes of Clay.

  XC

  And once again there gather’d a scarce heard

  Whisper among them; as it were, the stirr’d

  Ashes of some all but extinguisht Tongue,

&n
bsp; Which mine ear kindled into living Word. 360

  XCI

  Said one among them— “Surely not in vain

  My substance from the common Earth was ta’en

  That he who subtly wrought me into Shape

  Should stamp me back to shapeless Earth again?”

  XCII

  Another said— “Why, ne’er a peevish Boy 365

  Would break the Cup from which he drank in Joy;

  Shall He that of His own free Fancy made

  The Vessel, in an after-rage destroy!”

  XCIII

  None answer’d this; but after silence spake

  Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make; 370

  “They sneer at me for leaning all awry:

  What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?”

  XCIV

  Thus with the Dead as with the Living, What?

  And Why? so ready, but the Wherefor not,

  One on a sudden peevishly exclaim’d, 375

  “Which is the Potter, pray, and which the Pot?”