We hold high orgies of the things,
Strange and accursèd of all flesh,
Whereto the quick sense ever brings
The sharp forbidden thrill afresh.
And far away, among our kin,
Already they account our place
With all the slain ones, and begin
The Masses for our soul’s full grace.
THOUGHT.
THERE is no place at all by night or day,
Where I—who am of that hard tyrant Thought
The slave—can find security in aught,
But He, almighty, reaching me, doth lay
His hand upon me there, so rough a way
Assaulting me,—however I am caught,
Walking or standing still—that for support
I sometimes lean on anything I may:
Then when he hath me, ease is none from him
Till he do out his strength with me; cold sweat
Comes o’er my body and on every limb;
My arm falls weak as from a fierce embrace;
And, ere he leaveth me, he will have set
A great eternal mark upon my face.
THE STORY OF THE KING.
THIS is the story of the King:
Was he not great in everything?
He built him dwelling-places three:
In one of them his Youth should be;
To make it fair for many a feast
He conquered the whole East;
He brought delight from every land,
And gold from many a river’s strand,
And all things precious he could find
In Perse, or utmost Ind.
There, brazen guarded were the doors;
And o’er the many painted floors
The captive women came and went;
Or, with bright ornament,
Sat in the pillared places gay,
And feasted with him every day,
And fed him with their rosy kiss:
O there he had all bliss!
Then afterward, when he did hear
There was none like him anywhere,
He would behold the sight so sweet
Of all men at his feet:
And, since he heard that certainly
Not like a man was he to die,
For all his lust that palace vast
It seemed too small at last.
Therefore, another house he made,
So wide that it might hold arrayed
The thousands peers of his domain
And last his godlike reign;
And here he was a goodly span,
While before him came every man
To kneel and worship in his sight:
O there he had all might!