Chapter IV

Believe, some power higher
Breathes in us this desire
With purpose strange as fire,
And soft though seeming hard;
Who to such starved endeavor
And wasted love, that never
Seems recompensed, forever
Gives in His way reward.

BEYOND.

1

Hangs stormed with stars the night,
Deep over deep,
A majesty, a might,
To feel and keep.

2

Ah! what is such and such,
Love, canst thou tell?
That shrinks--though 'tis not much--
To weep farewell.

3

That hates the dawn and lark;
Would have the wail,--
Sobbed through the ceaseless dark,--
O' the nightingale.

4

Yes, earth, thy life were worth
Not much to me,
Were there not after earth
Eternity.

5

God gave thee life to keep--
And what hath life?--
Love, faith, and care, and sleep
Where dreams are rife.

6

Death's sleep, whose shadows start
The tears in eyes
Of love, that fill the heart
That breaks and dies.

7

And faith is never given
Without some care,
That leadeth us to heaven
By ways of prayer.

8

The nightingale and dark
Are thine then here;
Beyond, the light and lark
Eternal there.

SHADOWS.

1

Ha! help!--'twas palpable!
A ghost that thronged
Up from the mind or hell
Of one I wronged!

2

'Tis past and--silence!--naught!--
A vision born
Of the scared mind o'erwrought
With dreams forlorn:

3

The bastard brood of Death
And Sleep that wakes
Grim fancies with its breath,
And reason shakes.

4

Would that the grave _could_ rot
Like flesh the soul,
Gnaw through with worms and not
Leave it thus whole,

5

More than it was in earth
Beyond the grave,
Much more in death than birth
To conscience slave!

CHECK AND COUNTER-CHECK.

1

Vent all your coward's wrath
Upon me so!--
Yes, I have crossed your path
And will not go!

2

Storm at me hate, and name
Me all that's vile,
"Lust," "filth," "disease," and "shame,"
I only smile.

3

Me brute rage can not hurt,
It only flings
In your own eyes blind dirt
That bites and stings.

4

Rave at your like such whine,
Your fellow-men,
This wrath!--great God! and mine!--
What is it then?

5

No words! no oaths! such hate
As devils smile
When raw success cries "wait!"
And "afterwhile!"

6

A woman I and ill,
A courtesan
You wearied of, would kill,
And you--a man!

7

You, you--unnamable!
A thing there's not,
Too base to burn in Hell,
Too vile to rot.

SEMPER IDEM.

1

Hold up thy head and crush
Thy heart's despair;
From thy wan temples brush
The tear-wet hair.

2

Look on me thus as I
Gaze upon thee;
Nor question how nor why
Such things can be.

3

Thou thought'st it love!--poor fool!
That which was lust!
Which made thee, beautiful,
Vile as the dust!

4

Thy flesh I craved, thy face!--
Love shrinks at this--
Now on thy lips to place
One farewell kiss!--

5

Weep not, but die!--'tis given--
And so--farewell!--
Die!--that which makes death heaven,
Makes life a hell.

TWO LIVES.

1

"There is no God," one said,
And love is lust;
When I am dead I'm _dead_,
And all is dust.

"Be merry while you can
Before you're gray;
With some wild courtesan
Drink care away."

2

One said, "A God there is,
And God is love;
Death is not _death_, but bliss,
And life above.

"Above all flesh is mind;
And faith and truth
God's gifts to poor mankind
That make life youth."

3

One from a harlot's side
Arose at morn;
One cursing God had died
That night forlorn.

FOREVERMORE.

I

O heart that vainly follows
The flight of summer swallows,
Far over holts and hollows,
O'er frozen buds and flowers;
To violet seas and levels,
Where Love Time's locks dishevels
With merry mimes and revels
Of aphrodisiac Hours.

II

O Love who, dreaming, borrows
Dead love from sad to-morrows,
The broken heart that sorrows,
The blighted hopes that weep;
Pale faces pale with sleeping;
Red eyelids red with weeping;
Dead lips dead secrets keeping,
That shake the deeps of sleep!

III

O Memory that showers
About the withered hours
White, ruined, sodden flowers,
Dead dust and bitter rain;
Dead loves with faces teary;
Dead passions wan and dreary;
The weary, weary, weary,
Dead heart-ache and the pain!

IV

O give us back the blisses,
Lost madness of moist kisses,
The youth, the joy, the tresses,
The fragrant limbs of white;
The high heart like a jewel
Alive with subtle fuel,
Lips beautiful and cruel,
Eyes' incarnated light!

V

Instead of tears, wild laughter
The old hot passions after,
The houri sweets that dafter
Made flesh and soul a slave!
Enough of tearful sorrows;
Enough of rank to-morrows;
The life that whines and borrows
But memories of the grave!

VI

The grave that breaks no netting
Of care or spint's fretting,
No long, long sweet forgetting
For those who would forget;
And those who stammer by it
Hope of an endless quiet,
Within them voiceless riot
When they and it have met.