 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE GREATER MYSTERY.
(PART I.)
What is Life?
Wingèd hours with rosy feet,
All the dazzling, all the sweet;
Draughts of pleasure,
Without measure;
Flowers caressing, with their scent,
Faces half incontinent—
This is Life.
Wingèd hours with rosy feet,
All the dazzling, all the sweet;
Draughts of pleasure,
Without measure;
Flowers caressing, with their scent,
Faces half incontinent—
This is Life.
What is Life?
Days that cannot find a girth,
For the music of their mirth
Glad and glowing,
Overflowing
Into nights more rapturous still,
With a passion nought can fill—
This is Life.
Days that cannot find a girth,
For the music of their mirth
Glad and glowing,
Overflowing
Into nights more rapturous still,
With a passion nought can fill—
This is Life.
What is Life?
Heights of philosophic peace,
Where the sounds of turmoil cease,
In the seeing
Of pure being;
Beyond travail, joys, and tears,
Above hopes and loves and fears—
This is Life.
Heights of philosophic peace,
Where the sounds of turmoil cease,
In the seeing
Of pure being;
Beyond travail, joys, and tears,
Above hopes and loves and fears—
This is Life.
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What is Life?
Art's creations pure and bright,
Rising from the silent night;
At life's portal,
Made immortal;
Forms of beauty, paths of bliss,
Where Divine and human kiss—
This is Life.
Art's creations pure and bright,
Rising from the silent night;
At life's portal,
Made immortal;
Forms of beauty, paths of bliss,
Where Divine and human kiss—
This is Life.
What is Life?
Stern intention like a bow,
Bent against a coming foe;
Straining ever,
With endeavour,
To add something to the stores
Of the gold its lust adores—
This is life.
Stern intention like a bow,
Bent against a coming foe;
Straining ever,
With endeavour,
To add something to the stores
Of the gold its lust adores—
This is life.
What is Life?
Action with its leaping fire,
Kindled by a fierce desire;
Greed of glory,
Laurels gory
From the fields where thousands lie,
Slain that Honour might not die—
This is life.
Action with its leaping fire,
Kindled by a fierce desire;
Greed of glory,
Laurels gory
From the fields where thousands lie,
Slain that Honour might not die—
This is life.
What is Life?
Bridling seas, and bridging straits,
Barring storms with iron gates,
Levelling mountains,
Digging fountains
In the desert, wedding lands
With the clasp of kindred hands—
This is Life.
Bridling seas, and bridging straits,
Barring storms with iron gates,
Levelling mountains,
Digging fountains
In the desert, wedding lands
With the clasp of kindred hands—
This is Life.
What is Life?
Firm controlling, calm as Fate,
Of the helm that steers a State,
Through the welter,
To its shelter
In the haven of the blest,
Freedom's richly chartered rest—
This is Life.
Firm controlling, calm as Fate,
Of the helm that steers a State,
Through the welter,
To its shelter
In the haven of the blest,
Freedom's richly chartered rest—
This is Life.
(PART II.)
What is Life?
Weeping at a world of sin,
At the fiends that enter in
Doubt's dark region,
Ills a legion;
Tears remorseful, shed in shame,
O'er a desecrated name—
That is Life.
Weeping at a world of sin,
At the fiends that enter in
Doubt's dark region,
Ills a legion;
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O'er a desecrated name—
That is Life.
What is Life?
Watching for the souls that sleep,
And with those that vigils keep;
Carrying burdens,
Without guerdons.
Striving, in a thankless state,
With a love returned by hate—
That is Life.
Watching for the souls that sleep,
And with those that vigils keep;
Carrying burdens,
Without guerdons.
Striving, in a thankless state,
With a love returned by hate—
That is Life.
What is Life?
Toil and suffering, hurt and scorn,
Madly given and meekly borne;
Blasts of troubles,
Thick as bubbles,
On the stormy stream of years,
Wrecking earthly hopes in fears—
That is Life.
Toil and suffering, hurt and scorn,
Madly given and meekly borne;
Blasts of troubles,
Thick as bubbles,
On the stormy stream of years,
Wrecking earthly hopes in fears—
That is Life.
What is Life?
Weakness, want, and bitter stress,
Growing, grinding weariness;
Pang and peril,
Pasture sterile;
Withered flower and dusty tomb,
Where the roses used to bloom—
That is Life.
Weakness, want, and bitter stress,
Growing, grinding weariness;
Pang and peril,
Pasture sterile;
Withered flower and dusty tomb,
Where the roses used to bloom—
That is Life.
What is Life?
Seed of promise in the breast,
Bearing fruit of better rest;
Love of neighbours,
Larger labours;
Rising still to richer ends,
Fellowship with foes for friends—
That is Life.
Seed of promise in the breast,
Bearing fruit of better rest;
Love of neighbours,
Larger labours;
Rising still to richer ends,
Fellowship with foes for friends—
That is Life.
What is Life?
Insult, in its dastard part,
Trampling on the tender heart,
Coldly spurning
Every yearning;
With its deeds malign and fierce,
And the taunts that deeper pierce—
That is Life.
Insult, in its dastard part,
Trampling on the tender heart,
Coldly spurning
Every yearning;
With its deeds malign and fierce,
And the taunts that deeper pierce—
That is Life.
What is Life?
Darkness all with discord rife,
Waves of sorrow, winds of strife,
Ever crossing,
Ever tossing
Man's frail bark, across the sea,
To its port, eternity—
That is Life.
Darkness all with discord rife,
Waves of sorrow, winds of strife,
Ever crossing,
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Man's frail bark, across the sea,
To its port, eternity—
That is Life.
What is Life?
Bearing still the cross of bane
Up the stony steps of pain;
Faint and ruing,
Yet pursuing;
Offering humbly hope's last breath,
To the veilèd angel, Death—
That is Life.
Bearing still the cross of bane
Up the stony steps of pain;
Faint and ruing,
Yet pursuing;
Offering humbly hope's last breath,
To the veilèd angel, Death—
That is Life.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |