Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: Book of American Baking A Practical Guide Covering Various Branches of the Baking Industry Including Cakes Buns and Pastry Bread Making Pie Baking Etc. by Various
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page
Ebook has 88 lines and 6244 words, and 2 pages
Sleeping in a low-roofed chamber, With her phials of perfume round her, In a terra-cotta coffin With her image on the cover, Childish echo of her beauty Etched in black and gold barbaric-- Lift it slowly, slowly, seekers, Or your search will end in dust!
With a tiny nude Astarte, Bright with gilt and gravely watching Over grass-green malachite, Over rubies pale, and topaz, And the crumbled dust of pearls!
With her tarnished silver mirror, With her rings of beaten gold, With her robes of faded purple, And the stylus that so often Traced the azure on her eyelids,-- Eyelids delicate and weary, Drooping, over-wise! And at her head will be a plectron Made of ivory, worn with time, And a flute and gilded lyre Will be found beside her feet, And two little yellow sandals, And crude serpents chased in silver On her ankle rings-- And a cloud of drifting dust All her shining hair!
In that lost and lonely tomb They may find her; Find the arms that ached with rapture, Softly folded on a breast That for evermore is silent; Find the eyes no longer wistful, Find the lips no longer singing, And the heart, so hot and wayward When that ashen land was young, Cold through all the mists of time, Cold beneath the Lesbian marble In the low-roofed room That drips with tears!
THE WILD SWANS PASS
In the dead of the night You turned in your troubled sleep As you heard the wild swans pass; And then you slept again.
You slept-- While a new world swam beneath That army of eager wings, While plainland and slough and lake Lay wide to those outstretched throats, While the far lone Lights allured That phalanx of passionate breasts.
And I who had loved you more Than a homing bird loves flight,-- I watched with an ache for freedom, I rose with a need for life, Knowing that love had passed Into its unknown North!
AT NOTRE DAME
O odour of incense, pride of purple and gold, Burst of music and praise, and passion of flute and pipe! O voices of silver o'er-sweet, and soothing antiphonal chant! O Harmony, ancient, ecstatic, a-throb to the echoing roof, With tremulous roll of awakened reverberant tubes, and thunder of sound! And illusion of mystical song and outclangour of jubilant bell, And glimmer of gold and taper, and throbbing, insistent pipe-- If song and emotion and music were all-- Were it only all!
For see, dark heart of mine, How the singers have ceased and gone! See, how all of the music is lost and the lights are low, And how, as our idle arms, these twin ineloquent towers Grope up through the old inaccessible Night to His stars! How in vain we have stormed on the bastions of Silence with sound! How in vain with our music and song and emotion assailed the Unknown, How beat with the wings of our worship on Earth's imprisoning bars! For the pinions of Music have wearied, the proud loud tubes have tired, Yet still grim and taciturn stand His immutable stars, And, lost in the gloom, to His frontiers old I turn Where glimmer those sentinel fires, Beyond which, Dark Heart, we two Some night must steal us forth, Quite naked, and alone!
THE PILOT
I lounge on the deck of the river-steamer, Homeward bound with its load, Churning from headland to headland, Through moonlight and silence and dusk. And the decks are alive with laughter and music and singing, And I see the forms of the sleepers And the shadowy lovers that lean so close to the rail, And the romping children behind, And the dancers amidships. But high above us there in the gloom, Where the merriment breaks like a wave at his feet, Unseen of lover and dancer and me, Is the Pilot, impassive and stern, With his grim eyes watching the course.
DOORS
Listen! Footsteps Are they, That falter through the gloom, That echo through the lonely chambers Of our house of life?
Listen! Did a door close? Did a whisper waken? Did a ghostly something Sigh across the dusk?
From the mournful silence Something, something went! Far down some shadowy passage Faintly closed a door-- And O how empty lies Our house of life!
SPRING FLOODS
You stood alone In the dusky window, Watching the racing river. Touched with a vague unrest, And if tired of loving too much More troubled at heart to find That the flame of love could wither And the wonder of love could pass, You kneeled at the window-ledge And stared through the black-topped maples Where an April robin fluted,-- Stared idly out At the flood-time sweep of the river, Silver and paling gold In the ghostly April twilight.
Shadowy there in the dusk You watched with shadowy eyes The racing, sad, unreasoning Hurrying torrent of silver Seeking its far-off sea. Faintly I heard you sigh, And faintly I heard the robin's flute, And faintly from rooms remote Came a broken murmur of voices. And life, for a breath, stood bathed In a wonder crowned with pain, And immortal the moment hung; And I know that the thought of you There at the shadowy window, And the matted black of the maples, And the sunset call of a bird, And the sad wide reaches of silver, Will house in my haunted heart Till the end of Time!
THE TURN OF THE YEAR
The pines shake and the winds wake, And the dark waves crowd the sky-line! The birds wheel out on a troubled sky; The widening road runs white and long, And the page is turned, And the world is tired!
So I want no more of twilight sloth, And I want no more of resting, And of all the earth I ask no more Than the green sea, the great sea, The long road, the white road, And a change of life to-day!
IF I LOVE YOU
If I love you, woman of rose And warmth and wondering eyes, If it so fall out That you are the woman I choose, Oh, what is there left to say, And what should it matter to me, Or what can it mean to you? For under the two white breasts And the womb that makes you woman The call of the ages whispers And the countless ghosts awaken, And stronger than sighs and weeping The urge that makes us one, And older than hate or loving or shame This want that builds the world!
WHAT SHALL I CARE?
What shall I care for the ways Of these idle and thin-flanked women in silk And the lisping men-shadows that trail at their heels? What are they worth in my world Or the world that I want, These flabby-armed, indolent, delicate women And these half-women daring to call themselves men Yet afraid to get down to the earth And afraid of the wind, Afraid of the truth, And so sadly afraid of themselves? How can they help me in trouble and death? How can they keep me from hating my kind? Oh, I want to get out of their coffining rooms, I want to walk free with a man, A man who has lived and dared And swung through the cycle of life! God give me a man for a friend To the End, Give me a man with his heel on the neck of Hate, With his fist in the face of Death, A man not fretted with womanish things, Unafraid of the light, Of the worm in the lip of a corpse, Unafraid of the call from the cell of his heart,-- God give me a man for friend!
HUNTER AND HUNTED
When the sun is high, And the hills are happy with light, Then virile and strong I am! Then ruddy with life I fare, The fighter who feels no dread, The roamer who knows no bounds, The hunter who makes the world his prey, And shouting and swept with pride, Still mounts to the lonelier height!
In the cool of the day, When the huddling shadows swarm, And the ominous eyes look out And night slinks over the swales And the silence is chill with death, Then I am the croucher beside the coals, The lurker within the shadowy cave, Who listens and mutters a charm And trembles and waits, A hunted thing grown Afraid of the hunt, A silence enisled in silence, A wonder enwrapped in awe!
APPLE BLOSSOMS
I saw a woman stand Under the seas of bloom, Under the waves of colour and light, The showery snow and rose of the odorous trees That made a glory of earth. She stood where the petals fell, And her hands were on her breast, And her lips were touch
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page