That hurtle flesh and bone past fear
Down alleyways of dreams
This is a wine that must flow on
Not caring how or where
So it has ways to flow upon
Where song is in the air.
So it can woo an artful flute
With loose elastic lips
Its measurements of joy compute
With blithe, ecstatic hips.
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Dead men are wisest, for they know
How long a seed must rot to grow.Dead men alone bear frost and rainOn throbless heart and heatless brain,And feel no stir of joy or pain.Dead men alone are satiate;They sleep and dream and have no weight,To curb their rest, of love or hate.Strange, men should flee their company,Or think me strange who long to…
With two white roses on her breasts,
Dark Madonna of the grave she rests;Lord Death has found her sweet.Her mother pawned her wedding ringTo lay her out in white;She’d be so proud she’d dance and singto see herself tonight.
That brown girl’s swagger gives a twitch
Lad, never damn your body’s itchWhen loveliness is seen.For there is ample room for blissIn pride in clean brown limbs,And lips know better how to kissThan how to raise white hymns.And when your body’s death gives birthTo soil for spring to crown,Men will not ask if that rare earthWas white flesh once, or brown.
All through an empty place I go,
The candles and the lamps I lightGo down before a wind of gloom.Thick-spraddled lies the dust about,A fit, sad place to write her nameOr draw her face the way she lookedThat legendary night she came.The old house crumbles bit by bit;Each day I hear the ominous thudThat says another rent is thereFor winds to pierce…
The many sow, but only the chosen reap;
That with the cool oblivion of sleepA dawnless Night may soothe the smart of grief.If from the soil our sweat enriches sproutOne meagre blossom for our hands to cull,Accustomed indigence provokes a shoutOf praise that life becomes so bountiful.Now ushered regally into your own,Look where you will, as far as eye can see,Your little seeds…
Locked arm in arm they cross the way
The golden splendor of the dayThe sable pride of night.From lowered blinds the dark folk stareAnd here the fair folk talk,Indignant that these two should dareIn unison to walk.Oblivious to look and wordThey pass, and see no wonderThat lightning brilliant as a swordShould blaze the path of thunder.