Classic Poem

TO THE MAIDEN IN LOVE

In the wonderful night
When your longing is white,
When you dream of the mate
Who is chosen by Fate —
A god who comes riding
The tempest bestriding,
With stars for his helmet
And wings for his feet
(Oh! his lips and his eyes and his laughter are sweet) —
Do you harken my cry?
It is I; it is I;
I who hunger for birth
On the beautiful earth!
For his arms, they are eager and ardent as Life
To take you
And make you
His helpmate and wife.
Can't you hear, can't you hear
My voice at your ear?
I, the Urge and the Fountain, the reason in one
Since the world was begun!
Since your being was made
I have panted and prayed,
I have battled with death,
Seeking body and breath.
Yea, eons and eons before you were born,
In the young cosmic morn,
I yearned in the stream
Of Creation's first dream.
Mad for breath and for being,
For voice and for seeing,
I raged in the thunder;
I parted asunder
Veil upon veil of the Infinite Wonder,
Daring the centuries, all for your sake,
To bid the pure vision within you awake.

TO THE MAN OF PLEASURE

At the terrible door of your beautiful sin
I am standing within;
Your portal of rapture is fated for me
In the harvest to be.
Do you harken my cry?
It is I; it is I;
I who suffer and weep
For the revels you keep;
I who struggle and plead
For the body I need —
Strong, splendid, and whole
And fit for my soul!
I plead that my blood may be cleanly and red
I plead that my tissues be cherished and fed
Wherever you enter, or early or late,
There am I at the gate.
Wait — think,
On the brink
Of your perilous pleasure!
What will it measure?
What will it garner of anguish for me
In the future to be?
Don't you see, don't you know
I must reap where you sow?
You may revel to-night;
But the poison, the blight,
The terrible sorrow
Are mine on the morrow.

TO THE AMBITIOUS WOMAN

You stand in control,
You have conquered your soul;
You have stifled the longing for lover and mate,
Defiant of Fate.
Yet to-night you are lonely, and could you but speak,
You would cry for a soft little hand on your cheek.
There are tears in your eyes — I can see as I pass,
When you lean to your face in the glass
Do you harken my cry?
It is I; it is I;
It is I at your knee!
Don't you see, don't you see?
I who plead for the race;
I who yearn for a place
In the Infinite plan
God has fashioned for man!
Ah, fame is a lure,
And its laurels are sure
To the spirit afire
With ambition's desire.
But wait — listen — see!
In the future to be,
Can your crowning compare
To the blessing I bear?
Don't you see, don't you know
Your throe is my throe,
And mine is the pain when you stifle me so?
Is it fair, is it right?
You are lonely to-night.
The shout of the centuries urges my voice —
'Tis the hour of your choice!