قراءة كتاب The Path of Dreams Poems
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
class="i0">Since we must sleep the endless Sleep at last,
Since Life's grim juggernaut 'neath ruthless wheels
Crushes the heart; since Age like Winter steals
On Youth's fair-flowered fields with blighting blast—
Then to the gods our doubts and fears be cast!
Enough of Sorrow! Joyance is our due.
Gather the roses! Spurn th' envenomed rue.
Fling to the waiting winds the pallid past.
Steep thee in mellow moods and dear desires;
Pluck Love's flame-hearted flower ere it dies;
Cull nectared kisses sweet as morning's breath,
Warm Chastity at Passion's purple fires;
Nepenthe quaff—till drained the chalice lies.
After ... the shrouded sleep, the dreamless dark of Death.
Euthumism
If in the spirit glows no spark divine;
If soulless dust return to dust again;
If, after life, but death and dark remain—
Then it were well to make the moment thine,
Bacchante-steeping soul and sense in wine,
In lotus-lulling languors, fond desires
That heat the heart with fierce, unhallowed fires—
Till Pleasure, Circe-like, transform us into swine.
But if some subtler spirit thrill our clay,
Some God-like flame illume this fleeting dust—
Promethean fire snatched from the Olympian height—
Then must we choose the nobler, higher Way,
Seeking the Beautiful, the Pure, the Just—
The ultimate crowned triumph of the Right!
If soulless dust return to dust again;
If, after life, but death and dark remain—
Then it were well to make the moment thine,
Bacchante-steeping soul and sense in wine,
In lotus-lulling languors, fond desires
That heat the heart with fierce, unhallowed fires—
Till Pleasure, Circe-like, transform us into swine.
But if some subtler spirit thrill our clay,
Some God-like flame illume this fleeting dust—
Promethean fire snatched from the Olympian height—
Then must we choose the nobler, higher Way,
Seeking the Beautiful, the Pure, the Just—
The ultimate crowned triumph of the Right!
Under the Leaves
The phalanxes of corn stand grim and serried,
Dull gold the sodden sheaves,
The violets that smiled with Spring are buried
Under the leaves.
Dull gold the sodden sheaves,
The violets that smiled with Spring are buried
Under the leaves.
Along the land the Winter's doom is creeping
All vainly Autumn grieves;
And she who made my heart's sweet Spring is sleeping
Under the leaves.
All vainly Autumn grieves;
And she who made my heart's sweet Spring is sleeping
Under the leaves.
Carmen
Night in Seville, and the twinkle
Of stars in the far azure set,
The mandolin's torturing tinkle,
The click of the castanet!
Music and wine and low laughter,
Love and a torment of tune—
Hate and a poignard thereafter,
Under the yellow moon.
Of stars in the far azure set,
The mandolin's torturing tinkle,
The click of the castanet!
Music and wine and low laughter,
Love and a torment of tune—
Hate and a poignard thereafter,
Under the yellow moon.
Here in the night I await her,
Under the slumberous moon;
Yearns my fierce spirit to mate her—
All my sick senses aswoon
Beneath the wild sway of her dancing
Passion and pride are at war;—
Thrall to her amorous glancing,
Grandee and toreador.
Under the slumberous moon;
Yearns my fierce spirit to mate her—
All my sick senses aswoon
Beneath the wild sway of her dancing
Passion and pride are at war;—
Thrall to her amorous glancing,
Grandee and toreador.
Carmen Gitana, behold her!
Bright passion-flower of the South;
Soft Southern languors enfold her,
Scarlet the bloom of her mouth;
Passionate, sensuous, cruel,
Raying warm laughter and light,
A ruby—a scintillant jewel—
Set on the brow of the Night!
Bright passion-flower of the South;
Soft Southern languors enfold her,
Scarlet the bloom of her mouth;
Passionate, sensuous, cruel,
Raying warm laughter and light,
A ruby—a scintillant jewel—
Set on the brow of the Night!
Ah, the wild rhythm of her dancing!
Lithe with the jaguar's grace,
Ah, the sweet fire of her glancing,
The love-litten lure of her face!
And ah, in my fierce arms to hold her
This strange scarlet flower of the South.
Close to my heart-beat to fold her
Drinking the wine of her mouth!
Lithe with the jaguar's grace,
Ah, the sweet fire of her glancing,
The love-litten lure of her face!
And ah, in my fierce arms to hold her
This strange scarlet flower of the South.
Close to my heart-beat to fold her
Drinking the wine of her mouth!
Sweet, thou art weary with dancing,
Sick of the music and light
Praises and overbold glancing—
Steal with me into the night;
Out of the riot of laughter,
Out of the torment of tune—
Love and close kisses thereafter
Under the sensuous moon!
Sick of the music and light
Praises and overbold glancing—
Steal with me into the night;
Out of the riot of laughter,
Out of the torment of tune—
Love and close kisses thereafter
Under the sensuous moon!
Carmen, my fierce arms enfold thee,
Bright passion-flower of the South,
Close to my hot heart I hold thee,
Crushing the flower of thy mouth.
Love—for the loving that swayed me,
Passion—for passion long past—
Hate—for the hate that betrayed me ...
My dirk in your side at the last!
Bright passion-flower of the South,
Close to my hot heart I hold thee,
Crushing the flower of thy mouth.
Love—for the loving that swayed me,
Passion—for passion long past—
Hate—for the hate that betrayed me ...
My dirk in your side at the last!
To R. D. MacLean
If words were wingèd arrows tipped with flame,
Far-flying thro' the vast of time and space,
If Erato should lend me some rare grace,
Then might I dare to breathe in song your name.
Ah, Player-king, unmoved by all renown,
Acclaim and praise that wait upon your name,
You pluck a laurel from the wreath of fame,
Then, careless of the guerdon, cast it down.
Far-flying thro' the vast of time and space,
If Erato should lend me some rare grace,
Then might I dare to breathe in song your name.
Ah, Player-king, unmoved by all renown,
Acclaim and praise that wait upon your name,
You pluck a laurel from the wreath of fame,
Then, careless of the guerdon, cast it down.
Love and Death
Ever athwart Life's sunlit, upland ways
Falleth the shadow of impending Death,
And still Life's flowers beneath his blighting breath
To ashes wither, and to dust, her bays.
What were the worth of hard-won power or praise?
Awaits us all the grave-cell dark and deep,
The greedy grave-worm's maw, the awful sleep
When Death his cold hand on our pulses lays.
What then the end of action or of strife?
The sphinxèd riddle of the Universe,
Nature's unsolved enigma, who may prove?
Life's Passion
Falleth the shadow of impending Death,
And still Life's flowers beneath his blighting breath
To ashes wither, and to dust, her bays.
What were the worth of hard-won power or praise?
Awaits us all the grave-cell dark and deep,
The greedy grave-worm's maw, the awful sleep
When Death his cold hand on our pulses lays.
What then the end of action or of strife?
The sphinxèd riddle of the Universe,
Nature's unsolved enigma, who may prove?
Life's Passion