 | The poet, the fool and the faeries |  |
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THE HOUSE OF PRIDE
Weeds will spring up around the place,
And summer and the winter rain
Obliterate of it all trace—
As in the order of the brain
Terror and loss and mortal pain
Work madness; and, where flowers of thought
Once bloomed, all's wild and soul-distraught.
And summer and the winter rain
Obliterate of it all trace—
As in the order of the brain
Terror and loss and mortal pain
Work madness; and, where flowers of thought
Once bloomed, all's wild and soul-distraught.
The dodder's tawny tangle here
Will spread a strangling web around;
And from the trees the barren year
Drop bitter fruit upon the ground—
As in a heart, where love was found,
Hatred takes hold; and hope, perchance,
Puts on despair's black countenance.
Will spread a strangling web around;
And from the trees the barren year
Drop bitter fruit upon the ground—
As in a heart, where love was found,
Hatred takes hold; and hope, perchance,
Puts on despair's black countenance.
So be it. Death shall have its way
With all that makes for fine and fair.—
Yes; each grim year, day after day,
Shall sow oblivion's garden there,
Until the place is grown one stare
Of wilderness; like some blind face,
In whose wild look light has no place.
With all that makes for fine and fair.—
Yes; each grim year, day after day,
Shall sow oblivion's garden there,
Until the place is grown one stare
Of wilderness; like some blind face,
In whose wild look light has no place.
Yes, this shall be! And it is just,
Since here a human heart was slain,
And love was sacrificed for lust,
When out of gold was forged a chain
To hold a soul to all things vain:
A woman's soul, a breath of fire,
Bound will-o'-wisp-like to the mire.
Since here a human heart was slain,
And love was sacrificed for lust,
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To hold a soul to all things vain:
A woman's soul, a breath of fire,
Bound will-o'-wisp-like to the mire.
Now it shall burn—the Godless house!
The house of ancient pedigree!—
No more shall it, in wild carouse,
Lord it; and in depravity
Stare down contempt on misery;
Its insolence and arrogance
Scorning all lesser circumstance.
The house of ancient pedigree!—
No more shall it, in wild carouse,
Lord it; and in depravity
Stare down contempt on misery;
Its insolence and arrogance
Scorning all lesser circumstance.
Now it shall burn!—A little while
And those long windows blaze with fear,
That eye-like now on darkness smile,
The moonlight in them like a sneer,
That makes the whole vile house one leer
Of lordliness, that soon shall change
To terror and know something strange.
And those long windows blaze with fear,
That eye-like now on darkness smile,
The moonlight in them like a sneer,
That makes the whole vile house one leer
Of lordliness, that soon shall change
To terror and know something strange.
Think, what a form of fire shall take
The midnight with surprise! and cleanse
This soiled spot, as with flaming rake,
Of its defilement: fierce, intense,
Piling the refuse heap immense
Of that which never stood for soul,
Making the senses all its goal.
The midnight with surprise! and cleanse
This soiled spot, as with flaming rake,
Of its defilement: fierce, intense,
Piling the refuse heap immense
Of that which never stood for soul,
Making the senses all its goal.
Yea; let the flame become a sword,
To strike pollution from the land!
And, crimson-flourished, cleave the horde
Of Hell's persistence; like the brand
Of God Himself; and, fiery fanned,
Sweep down the twain in judgment there,
Catching them blazing by the hair.
To strike pollution from the land!
And, crimson-flourished, cleave the horde
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Of God Himself; and, fiery fanned,
Sweep down the twain in judgment there,
Catching them blazing by the hair.
So it is written. They must burn!—
The bridegroom Lust; the purchased bride!—
So that my soul may cease to yearn
And walk in darkness, hollow-eyed.—
Yea, let it fall,—this House of Pride!—
And flame to Heaven, with all my curse,
And all my love, that still is hers!
The bridegroom Lust; the purchased bride!—
So that my soul may cease to yearn
And walk in darkness, hollow-eyed.—
Yea, let it fall,—this House of Pride!—
And flame to Heaven, with all my curse,
And all my love, that still is hers!
| The poet, the fool and the faeries | |