 | City legends |  |
IV.
Or tell them of the hideous, creeping beast,
That trailed its slime along our grandest walks,
That named a million kings Laöcoon,
That twined around the fairest and the best,
And crushed them in its anaconda-coils;
That crept into our homes, and not content
With driving mortals from their Paradise,
Would make even that a hell.
That trailed its slime along our grandest walks,
That named a million kings Laöcoon,
That twined around the fairest and the best,
And crushed them in its anaconda-coils;
That crept into our homes, and not content
With driving mortals from their Paradise,
Would make even that a hell.
THE SERPENT OF THE STILL.
The tempter, as God's legends tell—
Allowed on earth to roam—
Crushed that which Woman loves so well,
Her sweet and sacred home.
From Eden, lost through his black art,
She wandered out forlorn;
She cursed him in her gentle heart
With meek but deadly scorn.
And since, in varied guise of sin,
He works his hateful will,
And reappears to-day within
The serpent of the still.
Allowed on earth to roam—
Crushed that which Woman loves so well,
Her sweet and sacred home.
From Eden, lost through his black art,
She wandered out forlorn;
She cursed him in her gentle heart
With meek but deadly scorn.
And since, in varied guise of sin,
He works his hateful will,
And reappears to-day within
The serpent of the still.
117
He comes not now in subtle mood—
With smiles, as long ago—
Enticing her by honeyed food,
And mysteries she may know;
He makes insulting, swift advance
Into her bright home-nest,
Admitted and embraced, perchance,
By those she loves the best.
He brings the world where he must dwell,
Her days and nights to fill,
Transmuting Paradise to Hell—
This serpent of the still!
With smiles, as long ago—
Enticing her by honeyed food,
And mysteries she may know;
He makes insulting, swift advance
Into her bright home-nest,
Admitted and embraced, perchance,
By those she loves the best.
He brings the world where he must dwell,
Her days and nights to fill,
Transmuting Paradise to Hell—
This serpent of the still!
He twines about her trembling life,
And soils it with his slime;
He fills the hours with foolish strife,
He sows the seeds of crime.
And Poverty and fierce Disease,
And Hunger and Disgrace,
And Death by death-empanged degrees,
Are in his cold embrace.
To grieve, to hurt, to rend, to smite,
To ruin, and to kill,
Are leaden links of his delight—
The serpent of the still!
And soils it with his slime;
He fills the hours with foolish strife,
He sows the seeds of crime.
And Poverty and fierce Disease,
And Hunger and Disgrace,
And Death by death-empanged degrees,
Are in his cold embrace.
To grieve, to hurt, to rend, to smite,
To ruin, and to kill,
Are leaden links of his delight—
The serpent of the still!
Rouse, woman, in your quiet power,
Your heart's man-withering frown,
Your hand that rules the festal hour,
And crush the monster down!
You shape the human form and soul,
You mark the infant's way,
Youth's fancy you can oft control,
Man's action you can sway:
Bend every blessing of your life
To fight its deadliest ill!
Strike—daughter, maiden, widow, wife—
This serpent of the still!
Your heart's man-withering frown,
Your hand that rules the festal hour,
And crush the monster down!
You shape the human form and soul,
You mark the infant's way,
Youth's fancy you can oft control,
Man's action you can sway:
Bend every blessing of your life
To fight its deadliest ill!
Strike—daughter, maiden, widow, wife—
This serpent of the still!
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