Spirituality

In the "foursome" some would fain
    Find nepenthe for their woe;
Following through shine or rain
    Where the "greens" like satin show;
    But I vote such sport as "slow"
Find it rather glum and gruesome;
    With a little maid I know
I would play a quiet "twosome"!

In the "threesome," some maintain,
    Lies excitement's gayest glow,
Strife that mounts unto the brain
    Like the sparkling Veuve Clicquot;
    My opinion? Nay, not so!
Noon or eve or morning dewsome
    With a little maid I know
I would play a quiet "twosome"!

Bays of glory some would gain
    With grim "Bogey" for their foe;
(He's a bogey who's not slain
    Save one smite with canny blow!)
    Yet I hold this tame, and though
My refrain seems tr...

    If flies be dragons
    and they may you know.
    In large desiccated brambles
    where wasps go
    involuntary blue-green coelacanths
    these Devil's Darning Needles
    wedge in Flying Circuses
    frame pale diaphanous wet green sky
    as shooting columns
    twig and Rock Face.

    There, fire-bush
    entrance scrapes paler wax
    green fronds then
    Blue Holes into canopies
    thru the stars.

Taking my pen, with words to cast my woe,
Duly to count the sum of all my cares,
I find my griefs innumerable grow,
The reck'nings rise to millions of despairs.
    And thus dividing of my fatal hours,
The payments of my love I read and cross;
Subtracting, set my sweets unto my sours,
My joys' arrearage leads me to my loss.
    And thus mine eyes a debtor to thine eye,
Which by extortion gaineth all their looks,
My heart hath paid such grievous usury,
That all their wealth lies in thy beauty's books.
    And all is thine which hath been due to me,
    And I a bankrupt, quite undone by thee.

Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak
Four not exempt from pride some future day.
Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,
Over my open volume you will say,
'This man loved me', then rise and trip away.

Down on the shore, on the sunny shore!
Where the salt smell cheers the land;
Where the tide moves bright under boundless light,
And the surge on the glittering strand;
Where the children wade in the shallow pools,
Or run from the froth in play;
Where the swift little boats with milk-white wings
Are crossing the sapphire bay,
And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate gale,
Holds proudy on her way;
Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry,
And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie,
Under the tent of the warm blue sky,
With the hushing wave on its golden floor
To sing their lullaby.

Down on the shore, on the stormy shore!
Beset by a growling sea,
Whose mad waves leap on the rocky steep
Like wolves up a traveller's tree;
Where the foam fli...

    The way I figure it, a number of people are
    out of control at any given time ...
    gin rummy & hockey notwithstanding.

    Mickey bottles and varicose veins
    are sure signs of indulgence
    as are, proof-positive, speed-traps &
    roll your own Black Cat.

    Sure 'nuff, even Sunday driving stands
    at the motor edge of frenzy while
    Mom's apple pie is little more than just peaches & cream
    home baked greed.

    Take stock car racing or the trots, Little Orphan Annie
    Comics or Budweiser. Vice, like charity, starts at home.

    Each curtails a larger problem and self worship
    begins the moment your zipper opens.

Roll on, thou ball, roll on!
Through pathless realms of Space
Roll on!
What, though I'm in a sorry case?
What, though I cannot meet my bills?
What, though I suffer toothache's ills?
What, though I swallow countless pills?
Never you mind!
Roll on!

Roll on, thou ball, roll on!
Through seas of inky air
Roll on!
It's true I've got no shirts to wear;
It's true my butcher's bill is due;
It's true my prospects all look blue
But don't let that unsettle you!
Never you mind!
Roll on!

(It rolls on.)

    I asked her, "Is Aladdin's lamp
    Hidden anywhere?"
    "Look into your heart," she said,
    "Aladdin's lamp is there."

    She took my heart with glowing hands.
    It burned to dust and air
    And smoke and rolling thistledown
    Blowing everywhere.

    "Follow the thistledown," she said,
    "Till doomsday, if you dare,
    Over the hills and far away.
    Aladdin's lamp is there."

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,
Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain,
Have put on black and loving mourners be,
Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
And truly not the morning sun of heaven
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,
Doth half that glory to the sober west,
As those two mourning eyes become thy face:
O! let it then as well beseem thy heart
To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace,
And suit thy pity like in every part.
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,
And all they foul that thy complexion lack.

[W.M.]


Most-like it was this kingly lad
Spake out of the pure joy he had
In his child-heart of the wee maid
Whose eerie beauty sudden laid
A spell upon him, and his words
Burst as a song of any bird's: -

A peerless Princess thou shalt be,
Through wit of love's rare sorcery:
To crown the crown of thy gold hair
Thou shalt have rubies, bleeding there
Their crimson splendor midst the marred
Pulp of great pearls, and afterward


Leaking in fainter ruddy stains
Adown thy neck-and-armlet-chains
Of turquoise, chrysoprase, and mad
Light-frenzied diamonds, dartling glad
Swift spirts of shine that interfuse
As though with lucent crystal dews
That glance and glitter like split rays
Of sunshine, born of burgeoning Mays
W...

'T was night - the moon, upon her sapphire throne,
High o'er the waning stars serenely shone,
When thou, false Nymph, determin'd to prophane
Them, and each Power that rules the earth, and main,
As thy soft, snowy arms about me twin'd,
Close as round oaks the clasping ivies wind,
Swore, while the gaunt wolf shall infest the lea,
And red Orion vex the wintry sea,
While gales shall fan Apollo's floating locks,
That shed their golden light o'er hills and rocks,
So long thy breast should burn with purest fires,
With mutual hopes, and with unchang'd desires.

    Perjur'd Nea[=e]ra! thou shalt one day prove
The worth, the vengeance of my slighted love;
For O! if Manhood steels, if Honor warms,
Horace shall fly, shall scorn thy faithless charms;
Seek some bright...

Cardelia.Smilinda.

Cardelia.
The Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come;
Why stays Smilinda in the Dressing-Room?
Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier waits for you:

Smilinda.
Ah, Madam, since my Sharper is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpeu.
I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's Chair,
And whisper with that soft, deluding air,
And those feign'd sighs which cheat the list'ning Fair.

Cardelia.
Is this the cause of your Romantic strains?
A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains.
As You by Love, so I by Fortune cross'd;
One, one bad Deal, Three Septleva's have lost.

Smilinda.
Is that the grief, which you compare with mine?
With ease, the smiles of Fortune I resign:
Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone,
Were lovel...

Be the mistress of my choice,
Clean in manners, clear in voice;
Be she witty, more than wise,
Pure enough, though not precise;
Be she showing in her dress,
Like a civil wilderness,
That the curious may detect
Order in a sweet neglect;
Be she rolling in her eye,
Tempting all the passers by;
And each ringlet of her hair,
An enchantment, or a snare,
For to catch the lookers on;
But herself held fast by none.
Let her Lucrece all day be,
Thais in the night, to me.
Be she such, as neither will
Famish me, nor overfill.

My river runs to thee:
Blue sea, wilt welcome me?

My river waits reply.
Oh sea, look graciously!

I'll fetch thee brooks
From spotted nooks, --

Say, sea,
Take me!

O holy virgin! clad in purest white,
Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth;
Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light
Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring
The honey'd dew that cometh on waking day.
O radiant morning, salute the sun
Rous'd like a huntsman to the chase, and with
Thy buskin'd feet appear upon our hills.

We first saw fire on the tragic slopes
Where the flood-tide of France's early gain,
Big with wrecked promise and abandoned hopes,
Broke in a surf of blood along the Aisne.

The charge her heroes left us, we assumed,
What, dying, they reconquered, we preserved,
In the chill trenches, harried, shelled, entombed,
Winter came down on us, but no man swerved.

Winter came down on us. The low clouds, torn
In the stark branches of the riven pines,
Blurred the white rockets that from dusk till morn
Traced the wide curve of the close-grappling lines.

In rain, and fog that on the withered hill
Froze before dawn, the lurking foe drew down;
Or light snows fell that made forlorner still
The ravaged country and the ruined town;

Or the long clouds would ...

"Genius, a man's weapon, a woman's burden." - Lamartine.

Dear God! there is no sadder fate in life
    Than to be burdened so that you can not
    Sit down contented with the common lot
Of happy mother and devoted wife.

To feel your brain wild and your bosom rife
    With all the sea's commotion; to be fraught
    With fires and frenzies which you have not sought,
And weighed down with the wild world's weary strife;

To feel a fever always in your breast;
    To lean and hear, half in affright, half shame,
    A loud-voiced public boldly mouth your name;
To reap your hard-sown harvest in unrest,
    And know, however great your meed of fame,
You are but a weak woman at the best.

Through that window, all else being extinct
Except itself and me, I saw the struggle
Of darkness against darkness. Within the room
It turned and turned, dived downward. Then I saw
How order might, if chaos wished, become:
And saw the darkness crush upon itself,
Contracting powerfully; it was as if
It killed itself, slowly: and with much pain.
Pain. The scene was pain, and nothing but pain.
What else, when chaos draws all forces inward
To shape a single leaf? . . .

For the leaf came
Alone and shining in the empty room;
After a while the twig shot downward from it;
And from the twig a bough; and then the trunk,
Massive and coarse; and last the one black root.
The black root cracked the walls. Boughs burst the window:
The great tree took possession.