Returning always near the eaves, or by the skylight glass:
There it will wait me many weeks, and then, at last, will pass.
Each soul is haunted by a ship in which that soul might ride
And climb the glorious mysteries of Heaven’s silent tide
In voyages that change the very metes and bounds of Fate —
O empty boats, we all refuse, that by our windows wait!
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The moon is but a candle-glow
The starry space, a castle hall:And Earth, the children’s room,Where all night long the old trees standTo watch the streams asleep:Grandmothers guarding trundle-beds:Good shepherds guarding sheep.
I am unjust, but I can strive for justice.
I, the unloving, say life should be lovely.I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness.Man is a curious brute — he pets his fancies —Fighting mankind, to win sweet luxury.So he will be, tho’ law be clear as crystal,Tho’ all men plan to live in harmony.Come, let us vote against our human nature,Crying to…
[During an anti-saloon campaign, in central Illinois.]
(For the thunders could flourish without me)And hid by a rose-hung wall,Forgetting the murder about me;And wrote, from my wound, on the stone,In mirth, half prayer, half play: —‘Send me a picture book,Send me a song, to-day.’I saw him there by the wallWhen I scarce had written the line,In the enemy’s colors dressedAnd the serpent-standard…
The moon’s a holy owl-queen.
Under her arm till evening,Then sallies forth to war.She pours the owls upon us.They hoot with horrid noiseAnd eat the naughty mousie-girlsAnd wicked mousie-boys.So climb the moonvine every nightAnd to the owl-queen pray:Leave good green cheese by moonlit treesFor her to take away.And never squeak, my children,Nor gnaw the smoke-house door:The owl-queen then will love…
‘Bring me soft song,’ said Aladdin.
Chant me a word of the twilight,Of roses that mourn in the fall.Bring me a song like hashishThat will comfort the stale and the sad,For I would be mending my spirit,Forgetting these days that are bad,Forgetting companions too shallow,Their quarrels and arguments thin,Forgetting the shouting Muezzin:’–‘I AM YOUR SLAVE,’ said the Jinn.‘Bring me old wines,’…
Once I loved a spider
A velvet-footed spiderWith a gown of rainbow-dye.She ate my wings and gloated.She bound me with a hair.She drove me to her parlorAbove her winding stair.To educate young spidersShe took me all apart.My ghost came back to haunt her.I saw her eat my heart.