I love you.
You are, then, cold coward.
Aye; but beloved--
XLI
Love walked alone.
The rocks cut her tender feet, And the brambles tore her fair limbs.
There came a companion to her, But, alas, he was no help, For his name was Heart"s Pain.
XLII
I walked in a desert.
And I cried, "Ah, G.o.d, take me from this place!"
A voice said, "It is no desert."
I cried, "Well, but-- "The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon."
A voice said, "It is no desert."
XLIII
There came whisperings in the winds "Good bye! Good bye!"
Little voices called in the darkness: "Good bye! Good bye!"
Then I stretched forth my arms.
"No--no--"
There came whisperings in the wind: "Good bye! Good bye!"
Little voices called in the darkness: "Good bye! Good bye!"
XLIV
I was in the darkness; I could not see my words Nor the wishes of my heart.
Then suddenly there was a great light-- "Let me into the darkness again."
XLV
Tradition, thou art for suckling children, Thou art the enlivening milk for babes; But no meat for men is in thee.
Then-- But, alas, we all are babes.
XLVI
Many red devils ran from my heart And out upon the page, They were so tiny The pen could mash them.
And many struggled in the ink.
It was strange To write in this red muck Of things from my heart.
XLVII
"Think as I think," said a man, "Or you are abominably wicked; "You are a toad."
And after I had thought of it, I said, "I will, then, be a toad."
XLVIII
Once there was a man,-- Oh, so wise!
In all drink He detected the bitter, And in all touch He found the sting.
At last he cried thus: "There is nothing,-- "No life, "No joy, "No pain,-- "There is nothing save opinion, "And opinion be d.a.m.ned."
XLIX
I stood musing in a black world, Not knowing where to direct my feet.
And I saw the quick stream of men Pouring ceaselessly, Filled with eager faces, A torrent of desire.
I called to them, "Where do you go? What do you see?"
A thousand voices called to me.
A thousand fingers pointed.
"Look! Look! There!"
I know not of it.
But, lo! in the far sky shone a radiance Ineffable, divine,-- A vision painted upon a pall; And sometimes it was, And sometimes it was not.
I hesitated.
Then from the stream Came roaring voices, Impatient: "Look! Look! There!"
So again I saw, And leaped, unhesitant, And struggled and fumed With outspread clutching fingers.
The hard hills tore my flesh; The ways bit my feet.
At last I looked again.
No radiance in the far sky, Ineffable, divine; No vision painted upon a pall; And always my eyes ached for the light.
Then I cried in despair, "I see nothing! Oh, where do I go?"
The torrent turned again its faces: "Look! Look! There!"
And at the blindness of my spirit They screamed, "Fool! Fool! Fool!"