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WHO IS ROBERT E. HOWARD
Robert E. Howard was an American pulp writer of fantasy, horror, historical adventure, boxing, western, and detective fiction. He is renowned among fantasy fans as the creator of such memorable “Sword and Sorcery” characters as Conan the Cimmerian, Kull of Atlantis, and Solomon Kane. In his fiction, he used devices borrowed from classical and traditional works, as well as formal rhetoric. In his poetry, he used rhythm, stress, and intonation to achieve a sense of motion. Some of his fiction has been described as prose poetry.
Howard used an economy of words to sketch out scenes in his stories; his ability to do so has been attributed to his skill with, and experience of, both tall tales and poetry. Howard’s stories have a sense of authenticity and a natural deft use of language due to his investment in the narrative. He also had a passion for oral storytelling and would frequently tell his stories aloud as he typed them.
He contributed his most celebrated work to Weird Tales, the pre-eminent fantasy pulp magazine of the era. However, his stories also appeared in such diverse publications as Action Stories, Argosy, Fight Stories, Oriental Stories, Spicy Adventure, Sport Story, Strange Detective and a number of others.
See also Styles and Themes of Robert E. Howard (Wikipedia) AND A Short Biography Of Robert E. Howard (REH Foundation) AND Authors similar to Robert E. Howard (GoodReads) AND Robert E. Howard and the Adventures of Conan (Voyage)
What do I know of cultured ways, the gilt, the craft and the lie?I, who was born in a naked land and bred in the open sky.The subtle tongue, the sophist guile, they fail when the broadswords sing;Rush in and die, dogs—I was a man before I was a king. -- Robert E. Howard
"Don't you realize that the freedom of the (Wild) West meant more than lack of restraint by law? It meant freedom from crushing taxes, from crowds, the hurry and rush of urban life, from the monotony of the sweat-shop or the office, from never-varying routine, from snobbery and from being merely a cog in the machine"-- Robert E. Howard in a letter to H.P. Lovecraft
I have but a single conviction or ideal,or whateverthehell it might be called: individual liberty. It's the only thing that matters a damn. I'd rather be a naked savage, shivering, starving, freezing, hunted by wild beasts and enemies, but free to go and come, with the range of the earth to roam, than the fattest, richest, most bedecked slave in a golden palace with the crustal fountains, silken divans, and ivory-bosomed dancing girls of Haroun al Raschid."-- Robert E. Howard in a letter to H.P. Lovecraft
LONG LIVE PULP FICTION:
“... let's bury the myth that pulp fiction is a lower form of art, the reverse side of literature as we know it … the pulps had one golden rule which unsung editors insisted upon and good and bad writers alike religiously followed: adherence to the art of story telling … pulp fiction is a state of mind, a mission to entertain, and literature would be so much poorer without it, its zest, its speed and rhythm, its unashamed verve and straightforward approach to storytelling.” – Maxim Jakubowski
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PROSEREH- BARBARISMSK- SOLOMON KANEREH- INDIVIDUALISM================
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TOP 25 QUOTESAge / Death / Dreams / EnvironmentHell / Mankind / Soul / WineWriting / Conan / Black Coast / Black River================
CONANConan the Barbarian - Wikiquote1 Literary worksRobert E. Howard"The Phoenix on the Sword" (1932)"The Scarlet Citadel" (1933)"The Tower of the Elephant" (1933)"Black Colossus" (1933)"Xuthal of the Dusk" (1933)"The Pool of the Black One" (1933)"Rogues in the House" (1934)"Iron Shadows in the Moon" (1934)"Queen of the Black Coast" (1934)"The Devil in Iron" (1934)"The People of the Black Circle" (1934)"A Witch Shall Be Born" (1934)"Jewels of Gwahlur" (1935)"Beyond the Black River" (1935)"Shadows in Zamboula" (1935)The Hour of the Dragon (1935-1936)"Red Nails" (1936)"The God in the Bowl" (1952)"The Black Stranger" (1953)"The Frost-Giant's Daughter" (1953)"The Vale of Lost Women" (1967)2 Quotes about Conan the Barbarian================Back to Top of page/ Key web sites Page indexes/ Library index
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WIKIQUOTERobert E. Howard - Wikiquote1 Quotes1.1 "Red Shadows" (1928)1.2 "The Shadow Kingdom" (1929)1.3 "The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune" (1929)1.4 "Rattle of Bones" (1929)1.5 "The Pit of the Serpent" (1929)1.6 "Kings of the Night" (1930)1.7 "The Moon of Skulls" (1930)1.8 "The Hills of the Dead" (1930)1.9 "The Dark Man" (1931)1.10 "The Footfalls Within" (1931)1.11 "The Phoenix on the Sword" (1932)1.12 "Wings in the Night" (1932)1.13 "The Scarlet Citadel" (1933)1.14 "The Tower of the Elephant" (1933)1.15 "Black Colossus" (1933)1.16 "Xuthal of the Dusk" (1933)1.17 "The Pool of the Black One" (1933)1.18 "Rogues in the House" (1934)1.19 "Shadows in the Moonlight" (1934)1.20 "Queen of the Black Coast" (1934)1.21 "The Devil in Iron" (1934)1.22 "A Witch Shall Be Born" (1934)1.23 "Jewels of Gwahlur" (1935)1.24 "Beyond the Black River" (1935)1.25 "Shadows in Zamboula" (1935)1.26 The Hour of the Dragon (1935-1936)1.27 "The Thunder-Rider" (c. 1936)1.28 The Tempter (1937)1.29 "Black Vulmea's Vengeance" (1938)1.30 "The God in the Bowl" (1952)1.31 "The Frost-Giant's Daughter" (1953)1.32 "The Black Stranger" (1953)1.33 "Delcardes' Cat" (1967)1.34 "Riders Beyond the Sunrise" (1967)1.35 "By This Axe I Rule!" (1967)1.36 "The Blue Flame of Vengeance" (1968)1.37 "The Castle of the Devil" (1968)1.38 "Visions" (1972)1.39 "The Lost Valley of Iskander" (1974)1.40 "The Road of Azrael" (1976)1.41 Letters1.42 Other
DEALING WITH THE RACISM QUESTION...
Parts of Solomon Kane's original tales (& other REH works), especially those set set in Africa, reflect, at times, unfortunately and disturbingly, racial superiority, stereotypes, and prejudices of 1920s, 1930s, like other classics of the same period, e.g., Gone with the Wind, Tarzan of the Apes, some Arthur Conan Doyle and H.P. Lovecraft pieces, etc. ...
At the same time, note that REH's character Solomon Kane -- often cited as example of racism -- has absolutely no friends or associates EXCEPT the black African shaman N'Longa, who guides, counsels and protects him in life and -- after N'Longa's death -- though visions amid Solomon's most daring adventures. Solomon seeks and listens to N'Longa's wise counsel.
In other stories REH also has Solomon Kane rescue natives from slavery entirely and solely to gain their freedom and REH champions a black heavyweight champion and the phantom Tom Molyneaux -- in his boxing tales.
See condemnation from SFW, acknowledgment at RPG.net, and excellent analysis by Howard champion @ Racism & Kane (On An Underwood 5), Taranaich and further analysis at Jason Sanford blog and Blog of the New Sun.
================
From Tor.com’s “The Tortured Soul: Robert E. Howard’s Solomon Kane” … perhaps the most interesting aspect of Solomon Kane are his inner struggles with racism. In many of Kane’s early adventures in Africa, he thinks of the natives as nothing more than savages and the descriptions of them reflect a rather racist attitude. Yet as time goes on, in various stories we see Solomon Kane learning to work with these natives, defend them, avenge their deaths, and in one story, attempt to free them from slavery. There is a transformation taking place in Kane as he learns the world is not as black and white as he first believed (pun honestly not intended!) and it leads to him becoming a better person without even realizing it. Considering Howard’s views toward black people, it’s very interesting that he would be willing to take his protagonist in this direction. Perhaps Howard recognized his own shortcomings on matters of race, and Solomon Kane’s transformation was the closest Howard could come to a catharsis on this matter. It’s certainly not the first time Howard dabbled with matters of race, as his Kull story, “The Shadow Kingdom,” dealt heavily with overcoming one’s racial prejudices (and the characters succeeded).
From aocwiki's Portal: Robert E. Howard ... Robert E. Howard's character, his personality and points of view, are important in gaining an understanding of Howard as a person and his body of work. Information about his attitudes come from memories of those who knew him, his surviving correspondence and analyses of his works.In his attitude towards race and racism, Howard was certainly racist by modern standards. However, the extent of his racist beliefs is debated. Howard used race as shorthand for physical characteristics and motivation. He would also make up some racial traits, possibly for the sake of brevity. Howard wrote mostly about the clash of cultures rather than racial groups. He was also of the belief that, no matter who won the subsequent conflicts, it would only ever be a temporary victory. Howard became less racist as he grew older, due to several influences. Later works include more sympathetic black characters, as well as other minority groups such as Jews.> Significant works in terms of Howard's views on race are "Black Canaan" and "The Last White Man." Howard was proud of his Irish ancestry at a time when the Irish were considered an undesirable minority group themselves. He was consciously defining himself as part of a minority group and most of his characters are also of Irish origin in some way (including the prehistoric Kull and Conan, who both belong to racial groups that later become the Celts).Howard had feminist views despite his era and location which he espoused in both personal and professional life. Howard wrote to his friends and associates defending the achievements and capabilities of women. Strong female characters in Howard's works of fiction include the protofeminist Dark Agnes de Chastillon (first appearing in "Sword Woman", circa 1932-34); the early modern pirate Helen Tavrel ("The Isle of Pirates' Doom", 1928), two pirates and Conan supporting characters, Bêlit ("Queen of the Black Coast", 1934) and Valeria of the Red Brotherhood ("Red Nails", 1936); as well as the Ukrainian mercenary Red Sonya of Rogatino ("The Shadow of the Vulture", 1934).Howard was afraid of aging and made many references to the subject, including a stated preference to die young.
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ROBERT E. HOWARD: Complete Works
ANALYSIS & BIO: Renegades & Rebels ■ Enter Barbarian
Dark Barbarian ■ A Closer Look ■ Lit Biography ■ Changed Lives
POETRY: Collection ■ Selected Poems ■ A Gibbet Against The Sky
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DEL REY: Conan #1 ■ Conan #2 ■ Conan #3 ■ Bran Mak Morn ■ Solomon Kane
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REH WORKS (5)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: BASIC ● ALL REH● Robert E. Howard: Golden Deer
● The Robert E. Howard Omnibus
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DEL REY (11)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: DEL REY ● ALL REH● The Conquering Sword of Conan
● Coming of Conan the Cimmerian
● The Savage Tales of Solomon Kane
● El Borak and Other Desert Adventures
● The Horror Stories of Robert E. Howard
● The Best of Robert E. Howard Volume 1
● The Best of Robert E. Howard Volume 2
● Bran Mak Morn: The Last King
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COLLECTIONS (10)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: BASIC ● ALL REH● Cthulhu Tales● Three Spicy Tales● Tales of the Wild West● Strange Detective Stories● The Breckenridge Elkins Stories● The Sailor Steve Costigan Stories● Sailor Steve Costigan: The Complete Collection of Published Stories● The Collected Boxing Stories● The Crusader Stories
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CONAN STORIES (5)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: BASIC ● ALL REH● Conan The Barbarian: 20 Tales
● Conan: The definitive edition
● Conan: The Collected Adventures
● Fantastic Stories: Conan Super Pack
● Conan The Barbarian: Bauer collection
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POETRY (3)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: POETRY ● ALL REH● A Gibbet Against Sky (Dunyazad)
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LITERARY BIO (3)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: BASIC ● ALL REH● Robert E. Howard: A Closer Look
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CRITICISM (4)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: CRITICISM ● ALL REH● Dark Barbarian Towers Over All
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AUDIO (9)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: AUDIO● Kull● El Borak ● Horror Stories● Coming of Conan the Cimmerian● Sailor Steve Costigan: The Complete Collection of Published Stories● Conquering Sword of Conan● Savage Tales of Solomon Kane● Hour of the Dragon
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http://www.dunyazad-library.net/index.htm
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: BASIC ● ALL REH
www.dunyazad-library.net/authors/robert-e-howard.htm
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COMICS (6)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: BASIC ● ALL REH● The Chronicles of Solomon Kane
● Kull: The Vale Of Shadow (1989) #1
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FRED BLOSSER (9)
CONTENT ● COLLECTIONS: CRITICISM ● ALL REH● Savage Scrolls: Volume One
● Annotated Guide to Robert E. Howard's Weird Fantasy
● #1: A Study of Two Texas Terror Tales
● #2: Five New Essays on Fantasy
● #3: Four Stories: Haunted Texas
STORIES OF FRED BLOSSER
● Terror of the Crimson Talons
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###Poems @ WIKISOURCE
REH POETRY @ COMMONPLACEPoetry @ On An Underwood****REH WIKISOURCE/PDF****ALL POETRY ALL POETIC SIDESOLOMON KANE POEMSGIBBET
==================
WIKIPEDIAGibbet Against the SkyPoems @ On An Underwood
MY FAVORITE HOWARD RHYMES
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INDEX TO FAVORITESTHE PHOENIX ON THE SWORDRETURN OF SIR RICHARD GRENVILLESOLOMON KANE'S HOMECOMINGTHE SONG OF THE BATS
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SERVICE POEMSSERVICE SENSE OF LIFE
QUITTERMEN THAT DON'T FIT INI AM FREEDOM'S FOOLTHE SPELL OF THE YUKONTHE LAW OF THE YUKONTHE SHOOTING OF DAN McGREWTHE CREMATION OF SAM McGEETHE CALL OF THE WILDCARRY ONJUST THINK!THE HARPYTHE LONE TRAILSONG OF A SOLDIER BORN GRAIN OF SANDTHE WONDERERHEART OF THE SOURDOUGHWANDERLUSTINDIVIDUALISTTHE FREETHINKERTHE ORDINARY MAN
MORE...The Ballad of Blasphemous BillThe Telegraph OperatorThe Ballad of Gum-Boot BenL'EnvoiA Rolling StoneWhile the Bannock BakesLittle MoccasinsI'm Scared of it AllGood-Bye, Little CabinThe Song of the PacifistIt Is Later Than You ThinkMoon Song
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INDEX
AmbitionA Stirring of Green LeavesThe AdventurerA Challenge to BastEgyptIvory in the NightScarlet and gold are the stars tonightLoveThe Sea GirlOcean-ThoughtsLove’s Young DreamThe MythThe WeaklingNectarMoonlight on a SkullRecompenseSlumberAn Open WindowShadow of DreamsThe ages stride on golden feetDesert DawnL’EnvoiThe Call of PanEarth-bornThe Day Breaks Over SimlaA MomentA Riding SongDeepsThe Sea-WomanBlack SeasSurrender (The Road to Rest)A ManThe Gods I WorshippedMonarchsThe Heart of the Sea’s DesireFlaming MarbleLesbiaA Roman LadyNunPrudeThe Choir GirlGirlSailorNever Beyond the BeastA Great Man SpeaksRebellionThe Robes of the RighteousRepentanceThe Open WindowThe WitchMoon MockeryThe Last Words He HeardAmbition
Build me a gibbet against the sky,
Solid and strong and long miles high,
Let me hang where the high winds blow
That never stoop to the world below,
And the great clouds lumber by.
Let the people who toil below
See me swaying to and fro,
See me swinging the aeons through,
A dancing dot in the distant blue. 13
A Stirring of Green Leaves
I long for the South as a man for a maid,
The rose at the window bar,
The stars and the palm-trees’ velvet shade
And the strum of a Spanish guitar.
My people laughed at the frost and cold,
And the blast from winter’s mouth,
But my soul is worn and thin and old
And it reaches blind to the South.
Why should I yearn for a gypsy trail
Through the olive trees of Spain?
Mine is the race of the Western Gael
And the cold, slow blood of the Dane.
But never the restless leaves are stirred
By a breath from summer’s mouth
But like the soul of a wandering bird
My soul is yearning South. 14
The Adventurer
Dusk on the sea; the fading twilight shifts;
The night wind bears the ocean’s whisper dim — Wind, on your bosom many a phantom drifts — A silver star climbs up the blue world rim.
Wind, make the green leaves dance above me here And idly swing my silken hammock — so;
Now, on that glimmering molten silver mere Send the long ripples wavering to and fro.
And let your moon-white tresses touch my face And let me know your slim-armed, cool embrace While to my dreamy soul you whisper low.
Dream — aye, I’ve dreamed since last night left her tower And now again she comes on star-soled feet. Welcome, old friend; here in this rose-gemmed bower I’ve drowsed away your Sultan’s golden heat. Here in my hammock, Time I’ve dreamed away For I have but to stretch a hand out, lo,
I’m treading languorous shores of Yesterday, Moon-silvered deserts or the star-weird snow; I float o’er seas where ships are purple shells, I hear the tinkle of the camel bells
That waft down Cairo’s streets when dawn winds blow.
South Seas! I watch when dusky twilight comes Making vague gods of ancient, sea-set trees. The world path beckons — loud the mystic drums — Here at my hand the magic golden keys
That fit the doors of Romance, Wonder, strange
Dim gossamer adventures; seas and stars.
Why, I have roamed the far Moon Mountain range
When sunset minted gold in shimmering bars.
All eager-eyed I’ve sailed from ports of Spain
And watched the flashing topaz of the Main
When dawn was flinging witch fire on the spars.
I am content in dreams to roam my fill
The vagrant, drifting sport of wind and tide,
Slave of the greater freedom, venture’s thrill;
Here every magic ship on which I ride.
Gold, green, blue, red, a priceless treasure trove,
More wealth than ever pirate dared to dream.
My hammock swings — about the world I rove.
The sunset’s dusk, the dawning’s glide and gleam,
Moon-dappled leaves are murmuring in the wind
Which whispers tales. Lo, Tyre is just behind,
Through seas of dawn I sail, Romance abeam. 16
A Challenge to Bast
Come not to me, Bubastes,
With agate talons hid,
Veil not the fury of your eyes
Beneath the drooping lid.
Save all your gentleness for those
Mad passion makes aghast,
For they who are too frail to face
Your love’s unholy blast.
But come to me as you of old
Your demon lovers met —
A black, stark naked frenzied thing
Of ebony and jet.
Where jackals haunt the shadows
In the star-light’s yellow glow
With bodies writhing savagely,
And teeth that gnash in ecstasy,
We’ll glut all hidden splendors
That maddened passions know. 17
Egypt
Bubastes! Down the lank and sullen years
Your magic haunts my dreams in distant lands,
My old desire assails me with red brands;
I see the god that o’er your shoulder leers,
Your eyes, your eyes like mystic midnight meres —
Your body quivering to my questing hands —
Why do you beckon me across the sands?
Have you not other victims to your spears?
There is no dream, but your long narrow eyes
Bring back the days of Egypt’s dusky skies.
Fair Bast! I come! I know you wait me there,
And I must feel again, like singing wine,
Your slender fingers flutter through my hair,
Your slim, white body nestling close to mine. 18
Ivory in the Night
Maidens of star and of moon,
born from the mists of the age,
I thrill to the touch of your hands,
in the night when the shadows are o’er me.
Your eyes are like the gulfs of the night,
your limbs are like ivory gleaming —
But your lips are more red than is mortal,
and pointed the nails of your fingers. 19
Desire
“Turn out the light.” I raised a willing hand
And plunged the room into the silken, cool
Darkness in which the deeper passions rule;
Your tresses snared me with each moon-lit strand,
Your soft breasts sent warm raptures through my hand.
I felt your slim, fresh body close to mine,
The blood went racing through my veins like wine
And my desire was like a flaming brand.
The pulsing world was as a couch for us;
The brittle moon that flung her silver down
A jewel mystical and luminous
Enshrined and fashioned in our passion’s crown;
The dusky, deep sapphirean sky above
A star-ensplendored canopy for love. 20
Scarlet and gold are the stars tonight
Scarlet and gold are the stars tonight,
The river runs silver below the bridge —
But the hour shall come when the dawn grows white
Over the eastern ridge.
Your face is a dim white flower of night,
In your arms unheeded the hours fall —
But the dawn makes hearts grow strange and light,
And the far lands call. 21
Love
I have felt your lips on mine
Your hair has veiled my eyes
When my blood was wild as singing wine
And star-gold flecked the skies.
We have watched the moonlight dance
On the breast of the still lagoon
But now I am tired of your changeless glance
In the eye of the wrinkled moon.
What have you given me
To name as an ultimate bliss?
Am I more strong, more free?
What slavery is this?
For a single star on the dusky sea
I would barter your hottest kiss. 22
The Sea Girl
My love is the girl of the jade green gown
And strange, inscrutable eyes;
She is slower far to smile than to frown
And her laugh is the wrath of the skies.
Her footsteps fall where the wild winds flee,
Her kiss is the touch of Fate;
And her love, the love that she gives to me
Is crueler than her hate.
The beautiful women of human ken,
They ravish man’s love away,
But my girl tramples the bones of men
And mingles their souls with spray.
Pensive and quiet and fraught with guile
She dreams when the gulls drift free,
But her strange lips bide white teeth and her smile
Is the song of the Lorelei.
Yet her wind-blown voice is an urge and a spur
That bids me follow her fast
Though I know that I, through my love of her,
Shall come to my death at last.
Shall lie in her arms mid the sea-deeps green
Where the dim, lost tides go down,
Yet I would not trade for a white-armed queen
My girl of the jade green gown. 23
Ocean-Thoughts
The strong winds whisper o’er the sea,
Flinging the gray-gnarled ocean’s spate;
The gray waves lash along the lea.
The lone gull’s wings are high and free,
The great seal trumpets for his mate;
The high winds drum, the wild winds dree.
The gray shoals roar unceasingly,
Where combers march in kingly state,
The crest-crowned monarchs of the sea.
And now, along the lone, white lea,
The surges fade, the winds abate.
And the wide sea lies silently.
But far to islands, restlessly
Surges the tide, unreined and great,
Forever roaming and forever free.
And thus my soul, forever restlessly,
Longs for the outworld, vast, unultimate,
The vasty freedom of the swinging sea,
Forever roaming and forever free. 24
Love’s Young Dream
I saw the evil red light gleam
Above the brothel door;
I entered in as in a dream
And climbed the stair once more.
I caught the stench of hairy men And sweat and smoke and beer,
And cutting through the smudgy din Her empty laugh rose clear.
I stood within her littered room That opened on the hall;
I saw the flasks of cheap perfume And the pictures on the wall.
Her hat was tossed on a broken chair, A coat lay on the floor;
Cheap cigarettes made sick the air That seeped through the sagging door.
And all my dreams sank down to fade, And yet the girl stood there,
That I had visioned a laughing maid With a blossom in her hair.
The girl I dreamed she might have been Fades before she that is —
But I’ll forget as do all men
In passion’s barren bliss.
For she runs with Life a parallel —
The dream and its rotten core —
For Life’s a harlot out of hell
With a red light over her door. 26
The Myth
Sages have said, we leave our sex on earth
When take we our departure through the skies;
And that a soul is done with sensual mirth,
When from this worldly sphere the ego flies.
We soar with white, unpassioned wings, and placid feet
Lead ne’er o’er ways that we have trod before,
And up and down and o’er the Golden Street,
We twang our harps and chant forever more.
They say that Passion’s kiss there none will know;
No eager-breasted girl, nor clean-limbed boy;
The sages sing a tedious land, I trow,
For when ye steal the sex, ye steal the joy.
For all of worldly life is versed in Sex,
All that is fair and foul, or fine or fell,
It may fling down, uplift or merely vex,
Yet ’tis the wine of gods and flame of Hell.
We polish Vice, we scoff it and we hide,
And yet it is the wine of Life, the spice,
I cannot see how human soul might bide,
Forever in a barren Paradise.
Nay, this bare myth doth mock the very Name
For He made Beauty, strong, and clean and lithe,
But eld, self-righteous sinners, failed in shame,
They hated Beauty, so they built the myth. 27
The Weakling
I died in sin and forthwith went to Hell;
I made myself at home upon the coals
Where seas of flame break on the cinder shoals.
Till Satan came and said with angry yell,
“You there — divulge what route by which you fell.”
“I spent my youth among the flowing bowls,
Wasted my life with women of dark souls,
Died brothel-fighting — drunk on muscatel.”
Said he, “My friend, you’ve been directed wrong:
You’ve naught to recommend you for our feasts —
Like factory owners, brokers, elders, priests;
The air for you! This place is for the strong!”
Then as I pondered, minded to rebel,
He laughed and forthwith kicked me out of Hell. 28
Men are toys on a godling’s string
Men are toys on a godling’s string;
All of the world is chaff.
Glory and honor, let them sing:
I am content to laugh. 29
Nectar
When I stand at the gates of Paradise
I will wipe my brow and say:
“It’s a long path and a dusty path
The path I have walked today.
“It’s a hot path and a dry path
From Hell to Paradise —
Oh Peter, my boy, have ye never now
A bit of a bottle on ice?”
“Patrick, me lad, I’ve saved ye wan,
It’s thirsty ye’d be, I knew!”
And he’ll fetch me a bottle black and cold,
Of the paradisal brew.
Oh, a bottle black and beaded cold,
And the liquid amber and clear,
With the sparkling foam and the right sharp tang—
And I’ll drink his health in the beer.
And when I pass through the Golden Gates
I’ll see ten thousand signs:
“Judas & Co.,” “Sargon & Cain” —
“Liquors and Ales and Wines”!
Lined each side of the silver streets,
Gemmed with many a star,
With flaming moons for electric lights —
Each building in heaven a bar! 30
Moonlight on a Skull
Golden goats on a hillside black,
Silken hose on a wharf-side trull,
Naked girl on a silver rack —
What are dreams in a shadowed skull?
I stood at a shrine and Chiron died,
A woman laughed from the bawdy roofs,
And he burned and lived and rose in his pride
And shattered the tiles with clanging hoofs.
I opened a volume dark and rare,
I lit a candle of mystic lore —
Bare feet throbbed on the outer stair
And the candle faltered to the floor.
Ships that sail on a windy sea,
Lovers that take the world to wife,
What doth the harlot hold for me
Who scarce have lifted the veil of life? 31
Recompense
I have not heard lutes beckon me, nor the brazen bugles call,
But once in the dim of a haunted lea I heard the silence fall.
I have not heard the regal drum, nor seen the flags unfurled,
But I have watched the dragons come, fire-eyed, across the world.
I have not seen the horsemen fall before the hurtling host,
But I have paced a silent hall where each step waked a ghost. I have not kissed the tiger-feet of a strange-eyed golden god, But I have walked a city’s street where no man else had trod.
I have not raised the canopies that shelter revelling kings,
But I have fled from crimson eyes and black unearthly wings.
I have not knelt outside the door to kiss a pallid queen,
But I have seen a ghostly shore that no man else has seen.
I have not seen the standards sweep from keep and castle wall,
But I have seen a woman leap
from a dragon’s crimson stall,
And I have heard strange surges boom
that no man heard before,
And seen a strange black city loom
on a mystic night-black shore.
And I have felt the sudden blow
of a nameless wind’s cold breath,
And watched the grisly pilgrims go
that walk the roads of Death,
And I have seen black valleys gape,
abysses in the gloom,
And I have fought the deathless Ape
that guards the Doors of Doom.
I have not seen the face of Pan,
nor mocked the Dryad’s haste,
But I have trailed a dark-eyed Man
across a windy waste.
I have not died as men may die,
nor sinned as men have sinned,
But I have reached a misty sky
upon a granite wind. 33
Slumber
A silver scroll against a marble sky,
A brooding idol hewn of crimson stone,
A dying queen upon an ebon throne,
An iron bird that rends the clouds on high,
A golden lute whose echoes never die —
A thousand dreams that men have never known
Spread mighty wings and fold me when alone
Upon my couch in haunted sleep I lie.
Then rending mists, the spurring whisper comes
“Wake, dreamer, wake, your tryst with Life to keep!”
Yet, waking, still a throb of phantom drums
Comes hauntingly across the mystic deep;
Their echo still my thrilling soul chord thrums —
Which is the waking, then, and which the sleep? 34
An Open Window
Behind the veil what gulfs of time and space?
What blinking mowing shapes to blast the sight?
I shrink before a vague colossal face
Born in the mad immensities of night. 35
Shadow of Dreams
Stay not from me that veil of dreams that gives Strange seas and skies and lands and curious fire, Black dragons, crimson moons and white desire, That through the silvery fabric sifts and sieves Strange shadows, shades and all unmeasured things, And in the sifting lends them shapes and wings And makes them known in ways past common knowing — Red lands, black seas and ivory rivers flowing.
How of the gold we gather in our hands?
It cheers, but shall escape us at the last,
And shall mean less, when this brief day is past, Than that we gathered on the yellow sands,
The phantom ore we found in Wizard-lands.
Keep not from me my veil of curious dreams Through which I see the giant things which drink From mountain-castled rivers — on the brink Black elephants that woo the fronded streams, And golden tom-toms pulsing through the dusk, And yellow stars, black trees and red-eyed cats, And bales of silk and amber jars of musk,
And opal shrines and tents and vampire bats.
Long highways climbing eastward to the moon, And caravans of camels lade with spice,
And ancient sword hilts carved with scroll and rune, And marble queens with eyes of crimson ice.
Uncharted shores where moons of scarlet spray
Break on a Viking’s galley on the sand,
And curtains held by one slim silver band
That float from casements opening on a bay,
And monstrous iron castles, dragon-barred,
And purple cloaks with inlaid gems bestarred.
Long silver tasseled mantles, curious furs,
And camel bells and dawns and golden heat,
And tuneful rattle of the horseman’s spurs
Along some sleeping desert city’s street.
Time strides and all too soon shall I grow old
With still all earth to see, all life to live:
Then come to me, my silver veil, and sieve,
Seas of illusion beached with magic gold. 37
The ages stride on golden feet
The ages stride on golden feet
The stars re-echo to the beat;
And o’er the peaks across the vales
the sea-winds seek the dawn;
The east is tinted like the rose,
A light breeze through the tree-tops blows
And through the dawn the red deer goes
to meet the timid fawn.
Through the forest on to the smiling dawn. 38
Desert Dawn
Dim seas of sand swim slowly into sight
As if from out the silence swiftly born;
Faint foremost herald of the coming morn,
Red tentacles reach out into the night;
The shadows gray, then fade to rosy white.
The stars fade out, the greatest and the least;
Now a red rose is blooming in the east,
And from its widening petals comes the light.
While, fleecy clouds are fading from on high,
The sun-god flings afar his golden brands;
A breeze springs up and races ’mid the dunes,
A-whisper with old tales and mystic runes;
Now blue and gold ride rampant in the sky,
And now full day comes marching o’er the sands. 39
L’Envoi
Twilight striding o’er the mountain,
Morn is whispering o’er the desert.
Mid the leaves the sea-breeze murmurs,
From the woodlands dryads beckon,
Come with me and learn the glory
Of the desert in the morning,
Of the ocean in the dawning. 40
The Call of Pan
My heart is a silver drum tonight —
— And the moon is red in the East —
And he drums with a rattle eery and light,
The god with the hoofs of the beast.
Drums with a thunder gold and light,
And the silence breathes like a mist rose white,
Is it my heart that he drums tonight,
Or the moon in the dreaming East?
His call to the sons of men at dawn —
And they falter and halt and start —
Is the haunting wail of pipe soon gone;
Oh, they hear his pipes in the brooding dawn,
But he shouts to me and he leads me on
With the drum that is my heart. 41
Earth-born
By rose and verdant valley
And silence I was born,
My brothers were the mountains,
The purple gods of morn.
My sisters were the whirlwinds
That broke the dreaming plains —
The earth is in my sinews,
The stars are in my veins!
For first upon the molten
White silver sands I lay,
And saw the ocean beckon
With eyes of burning spray.
And up along the mountain,
And down along the lea
I heard my brothers singing,
The river and the tree.
And through the ocean’s thunder,
And through the forest’s hush I heard my sisters calling,
The sea-wind and the thrush.
And still all living voices
Leap forth amain and far,
The sunset and the shadow,
The eagle and the star.
From caverns of the ocean
To highest mountain tree
I hear all voices singing
Their kinship unto me. 43
The Day Breaks Over Simla
Near a million dawns have burst
Scarlet over Jakko’s hill
Since our burning kisses first
Mingled in the twilight still,
In the magic, sapphire dusk
when our passions drank their fill.
I remember how the moon
Floated over shadowed dells
And the mellow mystic tune
Of the tinkling temple bells —
Ere Siddertha’s people turned
to the braying sea-conch shells.
Lips to scarlet lips we pressed
Ah, your eyes were star lit meres
As your tresses I caressed
Calmed your modest virgin fears —
Love upon an Indian night,
love to last a thousand years.
Fades the rosy dawn as slow
Morning flames across the plain;
With a sigh I turn and go
Humming some old time refrain
To the consul house as day
over Simla breaks again. 44
A Moment
Let me forget all men a space,
All dole and death and dearth;
Let me clutch the world in my hungry arms —
The paramour of the earth.
The hills are gowned in emerald trees
And the sea-green tides of grain,
And the joy, oh God, of the tingling sod,
Oh, it rends my heart in twain.
My feet are bare to the burning dew,
My breast to the stinging breeze;
And I watch the sun in the flaming blue
Like a worshipper on his knees.
With the joys of the sun and love and growth
All things of the earth are rife;
And the soul that is deep in the breast of me
Sings with the pulse of Life. 45
A Riding Song
Blast away the black veil,
Blast away the blue;
Fill with wind the slack sail,
Stars are blinking through.
Hammers pound, hammers pound,
Ghosts are in the hall;
Out beyond the dim sound
The green seas call.
What of hearts can men lend
Beg or buy or borrow?
Joy and hope and pain end
Riding down Tomorrow.
Shadows haunt the still house —
Lock the doors forever;
Fling the key in the sea,
Riding from the river.
Lock the Door behind the doors
On all joy and sorrow;
Drown them where the sea roars,
Riding down Tomorrow! 46
Deeps
There is a cavern in the deep
Beyond the sea-winds brawl;
Where the hills of the sea slope high and steep,
And dragons sleep
And serpents creep
There is a cavern in the deep
Where strange sea-creatures crawl. 47
The Sea-Woman
The wild sea is beating
Against the grey sands;
The woman, the sea-woman,
Stretches her hands.
Her eyes they are mystic
And cold as the sea,
With slender white fingers
She beckons to me —
There are woods in the sea
Though the leaves are all grey,
The ocean’s pale roses
Lift dim in the spray.
I follow I follow —
The grey sea-gull flies —
Ah, woman, sea-woman,
There’s death in your eyes. 48
Black Seas
I have heard black seas booming in the night
On dim uncharted shores beneath the stars,
With reefs that never gleamed to mortal sight,
And winds that never hastened man-hewn spars.
I waver on the threshold of my choice —
Oh silver stars that gleam in oceans black! —
For through the night there sounds a nameless Voice:
“Who ride the dusky seas — they come not back.” 49
Surrender (The Road to Rest)
I will rise some day when the day is done
And the stars begin to quiver;
I will follow the road of the setting sun
Till I come to a dreaming river.
I am weary now of the world and vow
Of the winds and the winter weather;
I’ll reel through a few more years somehow,
Then I’ll quit them altogether. I’ll go to a girl that once I knew And I will not swerve or err, And I care not if she be false or true For I am not true to her. Her eyes are fierce and her skin is brown And her wild blood hotly races, But it’s little I care if she does not frown At any man’s embraces. Should I ask for a love none may invade? Is she more or less than human? Do I ask for more, who have betrayed Man, devil, god and woman?Enough for me if she has for me
A bamboo hut she’ll share,
And enough tequila to set me free
From the ghosts that leer and stare.
I’ll lie all day in a sodden sleep
Through days without name or number,
With only the wind in the sky’s blue deep
To haunt my unshaken slumber.
And I’ll lie by night in the star-roofed hut
Forgetful and quiet-hearted,
Till she comes with her burning eyes half shut
And her red lips hot and parted.
The past is flown when the cup is full,
And there is no chain for linking
And any woman is beautiful
When a man is blind with drinking.
Life is a lie that cuts like a knife
With its sorrow and fading blisses;
I’ll go to a girl who asks naught of life
Save wine and a drunkard’s kisses.
No man shall know my race or name,
Or my past sun-ripe or rotten,
Till I travel the road by which I came,
Forgetting and soon forgotten. 51
A Man
I tore a pine from the mountain crag
I plunged it into the sea
And I wrote my name across the stars
For all of Eternity.
I rocked the world with my chariots
I shook the seas with my pride
And at last I looked at my name in the stars
And I laid me down and died.
The morns gave birth to the surging years
Year rose on dying year
But ever above in the flaming stars
My name stood blazing clear.
And the people came and the people went
With their fetters and chains and bars,
Saying, “I wonder what unknown man
Those strange words wrote on the stars?” 52
The Gods I Worshipped
The standards toss in pride
As priests and prelates go,
But the gods I worshipped died
Eight thousand years ago.
The gods of the mountain side,
The gods of the buffalo,
The gods of the surging tide,
The ceaseless ebb and flow. 53
Monarchs
These be the kings of men,
Lords of the Ultimate Night,
Kings of the desert and fen —
Jackal, vulture and kite. 54
2.
The Heart of the Sea’s Desire
The stars beat up from the shadowy sea,
The caves of the coral and pearl,
And the night is afire with a red desire
For the loins of a golden girl.
You have left your girdle upon the beach,
And you wade from the pulsing land,
And the hot tide darts to your secret parts
That have known one lover’s hand.
The hot tide laves your rounded limbs,
That his subtle fingers part,
And the sea that lies between your thighs
Is the heart of the Night’s red heart.
In the days to come and the nights to come,
And the days and the nights to be,
A babe you shall hold to your breast of gold As you croon a lullaby;
A babe with the cry of a wind-racked gull,
That shall grow to a round-limbed girl
With strange cold eyes like the sea that lies In the caves of coral and pearl.
Her soul shall be as an ocean wind,
Restless her feet shall be,
And she shall be part of the Night’s red heart,
And the heart of the sounding sea.
And the man who lies by your side at night,
He is not your daughter’s sire;
For she is the babe of a hungry Night,
And the heart of the sea’s desire! 57
Flaming Marble
I carved a woman out of marble when
The walls of Athens echoed to my fame:
And in the myrtle crown was shrined my name.
I wrought with skill beyond all earthly ken;
And into cold, inhuman beauty then
I breathed a mist of white and living flame —
And from her pedestal she rose and came
To snare the souls and rend the hearts of men.
Without a soul, without a human heart
She broke the crystal gong of mortal pride.
And even I fell victim to my art:
With bitter, joyous love I claimed my bride.
And still with frozen hate that never dies
She sits and stares at me with icy eyes. 58
Lesbia
From whence came this grim desire? What was the wine in my blood? What raced through my veins like fire And beat at my brain like a flood? Bare is the desert’s dust, Deep is the emerald sea — Barer my deathless lust, Deeper the hunger of me. Goddess I sit and brood — They cringe to my Hell-lit eyes, The wretched women nude I have gripped between my thighs. As they writhed between my hands And the ocean heard their screams Firing my passion’s brands As I dreamed my lurid dreams. Their breath came fast and hot, Their tresses were Hades’ mesh; World and the worlds were not; Flesh against pulsing flesh. Their white limbs fluttered and tossed, They whimpered beneath my grasp And their maidenhood was lost In strange unnatural clasp.Hours my pleasure beguiled The green Arcadian glades, As idle mornings I whiled With free-hipped country maids. Under the star-gemmed skies That looked upon curious scenes I have spread the round white thighs Of naked and frightened queens. What was it turned my face From brown-limbed Grecian boys, Weary of their embrace To darker and barer joys? A miser weary of coins I wearied of early charms, Of youths who ungirt my loins, Restless sighed in their arms. With many a youth I lay, But their wine to me was dregs. I found scant joy in they Who parted my supple legs. I turned to the loves I prize; Found joy amid perfumed curls, In a maiden’s amorous sighs, In the tears of naked girls.These are the wine of delight — A girl’s ungirdled charms, A woman’s laugh in the night As she lies in my eager arms. Goddess I sit and laugh, Nude as the scornful moon — World and the worlds are chaff. Say, shall my day be soon? 61
A Roman Lady
There is a strangeness in my soul
A dark and brooding sea.
Nor all the waves on Capri’s shoal
Might stay the thirst of me.
For men have come and men have gone
For pleasure or for hire.
Though they lay broken at the dawn
They did not quench my fire.
My pity is a deathly ruth
I burn men with my eyes.
Oh, would all men were one strong youth
To break between my thighs.
And many a man his fortune spread
To glut my ecstacy
As I lay panting on his bed
In shameless nudity.
But all of ancient Egypt’s gold
Can never equal this,
Nor all the treasures kingdoms hold,
A single hour of bliss.
Within my villa’s high domain
Are boys from Britain’s rocks
And dark eyed slender lads from Spain And Greeks with perfumed locks
And youths of soft and subtle speech From furtherest Orient,
Wherever arms of legions reach
And Roman chains are sent.
Why may I not be satiate
With kisses of some boy —
They only rouse my passion’s spate
I never know such joy
As when through chambers filled with noise
Of wails and pleas and sighs
I stride among my naked boys
With whips that bruise their thighs.
I drift through mists red flaming flung
On hills of ecstacies
As shoulder-wealed and buttock-stung
They shriek and kiss my knees. 63
Nun
I have anchored my ship to a quiet port;
A land that is holy and blest.
But I gaze through my bars at the tempest’s sport
And I long for the sea’s unrest. 64
Prude
I dare not join my sisters in the street;
I think of people’s talk, the cynic stare.
Fierce envy makes me scornful of their play,
And hide my lust behind a haughty air. 65
The Choir Girl
I have a saintly voice, the people say;
With Elder Blank I send the music winging —
I smile and compliment him on his singing —
By God, I’d rather hear a jackass bray.
I nod and smile to all the pious sisters —
I wish their rears were stung with seven blisters.
That youthful minister, so straight and slim —
I’d trade my soul for one long night with him. 66
Girl
Gods, what a handsome youth across the way.
What shall I do to make him notice me?
I must not be too obvious — there
I’ll shift my dress, demurely and let him see
A quick glance of an ankle very trim;
Then blush and smooth my skirts down hastily
As if ’twere unintentional — Hell!
The fool’s not even got his eyes on me. 67
Sailor
I saw a mermaid sporting in the bay,
Far down, far down where blew no roaring gale;
About her snowy shoulders flashed the spray,
The waves played emerald at her sinewy tail;
She swam a jade and golden, star-set way,
Where all the rainbow colors seemed to play —
She vanished at the Swedish captain’s hail
Who bid me go to Hell and furl a sail. 68
Never Beyond the Beast
Rise to the peak of the ladder
Where the ghosts of the planets feast —
Out of the reach of the adder —
Never beyond the Beast.
He is there, in the abyss brooding,
Where the nameless black fires fall;
He is there, in the stars intruding,
Where the sun is a silver ball.
Beyond all weeping or revel,
He lurks in the cloud and the sod;
He grips the doors of the Devil
And the hasp on the gates of God.
Build and endeavor and fashion —
Never can you escape
The blind black brutish passion —
The lust of the primal Ape. 69
A Great Man Speaks
They set me up on high, a marble saint,
As if to guard the virtue of the park.
My flanks are gaunt, my gaze is cold and stark,
For I must look the part the liars paint,
They’ve cleansed my history of fleshy taint.
The elders bid the younger people mark
How virtuous I gleam against the dark —
Could I but speak I’d make the bastards faint.
Great God, how could they know the lusty zest,
The love of life that made my sinews dance? —
Below me now, against my base, inert,
A lousy tramp, a sleeping house-maid rest,
I yearn for that square flask in his old pants.
My fingers burn to feel beneath her skirt. 70
Rebellion
The marble statues tossed against the sky
In gestures blind as though to rend and kill,
Not one upon his pedestal was still.
Stiff fingers clutched at winds that whispered by,
And from the white lips rose a deathly cry:
“Cursed be the hands that broke us from the hill!
There slumber of unbirth was ours till
They gave us life that cannot live or die.”
And then as from a dream I stirred and woke —
Sublime and still each statue raised its head,
Etched pure and cold against the leafy green,
No limb was moved, no sigh the silence broke;
And people walked amid the grove and said:
“How peaceful these white gods! — aye, how serene.” 71
The Robes of the Righteous
I am a saintly reformer,
basking in goodly renown
Sure of applaud of the righteous, cinctured in purity’s gown.
Young men and old men revere me, women and girls out of school Come to me telling their secrets, seeking my counseling cool.
Little they know of my story
when I was the water-front’s toast, Back in the days of my glory
down on the Barbary Coast.
Young and my lips full and crimson, flaming with passionate blood, My love was the leap of an ocean, my passion the swing of the flood. Changing and varied my fancies yet no woman ever gave more
For I joyed in the man on my body just as much as the one just before. Ah, nights that were lurid and gorgeous, under the bar lamps blaze
Flutter of cards on the table,
faces that leered through the haze Of smoke drifting up from the stogies, the red liquor flowing free
And the shout of the salty ballads
that sailors sang from the sea.
The money scattered like water,
the pagan thrill of the dance
The hand that groped in my clothing,
the burning and meaning glance
Then the look as the stair I mounted,
the man that left the floor,
The joyous and panting waiting,
the stealthy knock at my door —
What if they knew, the elders,
that I was a Barbary whore?
Hiding my charms with meekness
under purity’s gown
Sure of applaud of the righteous,
basking in goodly renown. 73
Repentance
How is it that I am what I am
How did I come to fall?
Who was the man my soul to damn Black in the sight of all?
Who was it came in my virginhood And in some evil hour
Turned all my life to bad from good Bruising the tender flower?
I cannot remember the fellow’s name I had long ago forgot;
I was young and my blood was flame The person mattered not.
I was hot as a blazing brand
Blood and body and nerve
Ripe to be plucked by the first man’s hand And any man would serve.
I have had my day, I have had my fling Men have bowed at my knee.
I sit in the bars where the harlots sing To sailors hot from the sea.
Sallow my cheeks and my lips have faded Life’s roses slip my clutch
But my blood is still hot and still unjaded I can thrill to the deck-hand’s touch.
Still I thrill to the hands of men
I love the contact yet
The breath that is laden with wharfside gin
The scent of tobacco and sweat.
Bristly jowls on my painted cheek
The obscene, whispered jest,
Calloused hands that lustfully seek
My out-worn charms to quest.
My by-gone life is dim and far;
I am content with gin,
A slug of wine, sometimes at the bar,
A room for the sailormen. 75
The Open Window
I remember my sister Eve
And her supple form and her vivid eyes
And the heart that she wore upon her sleeve
And the tales that our mother swore were lies.
Her arms were cool to a younger child,
And wild and strange were the songs she sung,
But her hands went cold when our mother smiled
And she said that our mother was never young.
She went in a grey and wintry dawn
That stabbed the veil of the rainy night —
A flash in the door, and she was gone
As a white moth flits to the candle light.
Our mother? She spoke her name no more.
Gaunter she grew and grim and hard.
The beggar turned from our tight-lipped door
And the flowers shrank from our leafless yard.
I saw her, Eve, in the harlot’s guise.
Her face was haggard, painted and drawn,
But the freedom, God, in her changeless eyes
Made white my soul like a forest dawn. 76
The Witch
We set a stake amid the stones
That crown the headland shore, Where wild the sea-wind ever drones And where the combers roar.
Then leg and ankle, wrist and hand, We bound her to the stake
With chains that might the fire withstand, And never a word she spake.
The grey gulls whirled by, light and fleet; Loud called the hooded tern.
We fired the fagots at her feet
And left her there to burn.
Over her bare breasts flowed her hair, About her leaped the flame;
But as we turned to leave her there She spoke no word of blame.
I turned upon the sloping lea,
A moment paused, alone,
Half fearful, gazing, lest I see
The Devil claim his own.
About her breast the red fires gleamed, The dark smoke caught her hair, And to my wondering eyes it seemed A halo floated there.
Fools! Fools! A human soul be cleaned
By fire of Satan’s taint —
’Tis we are henchmen of the Fiend!
For we have burned — a Saint! 78
Moon Mockery
I walked in Tara’s wood one summer night,
And saw, amid the still, star-haunted skies,
A slender moon in silver mist arise,
And hover on the hill as if in fright.
Burning, I seized her veil and held her tight:
An instant all her glow was in my eyes;
Then she was gone, swift as a white bird flies,
And I went down the hill in opal light.
And soon I was aware, as down I came,
That all was strange and new on every side;
Strange people went about me to and fro,
And when I spoke with trembling mine own name
They turned away, but one man said: “He died
In Tara Wood, a hundred years ago.” 79
The Last Words He Heard
The chariots were chanting in the gloom,
The long dark banners carved the crimson sky,
A whisper reached me as a shaft went by,
A deadly bride that sought a deathly groom.
A black tide swept us, plume on waving plume.
The arrows filled the air like one great sigh
The shields boomed out in one great hollow cry,
Dim pallid faces fringed that sea of doom.
Then in an instant all the loud alarms
Died out in silence far along the plain,
For faces gleamed bare skulls unhelmeted,
The broken spears fell down from fleshless arms.
I cried, “My God, but all of these are slain!”
A Voice replied, “Nay, you alone are dead.” 80
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