Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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YASMEENA—MY INDIAN FATE. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
YASMEENA—MY INDIAN FATE.
Lax and lascivious,
And with tinkling feet
Set with sweet silver bells, like dying knells
Of lost souls cast on utter Space omnivious,
She gazes from the lattice down the street;
Her supple beauty sways, as to the wind
Some soft anemone,
But holds hegemony
Above her peers, a fervid flower of Ind.
The heavy perfume from her scented hair
Catches the breath
Like odorous death,
And with her bosom's naked blossoms
She sits supreme and as a demon fair.
And with tinkling feet
Set with sweet silver bells, like dying knells
Of lost souls cast on utter Space omnivious,
She gazes from the lattice down the street;
Her supple beauty sways, as to the wind
Some soft anemone,
But holds hegemony
Above her peers, a fervid flower of Ind.
The heavy perfume from her scented hair
Catches the breath
Like odorous death,
And with her bosom's naked blossoms
She sits supreme and as a demon fair.
Her mind is littleness,
But her lusts are large
And feed upon all hearts with subtle arts
Or sport in splendid vice with virtue's brittleness,
Just as a child may toy with ocean's marge;
A veilèd tomb she swallows up the gold
Of kings in revelry,
And with pure devilry
Grows brighter like a plant from burial mould,
Enriched by every sacrifice of wealth;
The cruel grip
Of that red lip,
Seen through its musky mantle dusky,
From fame and fortune draws its ruddy health.
But her lusts are large
And feed upon all hearts with subtle arts
Or sport in splendid vice with virtue's brittleness,
Just as a child may toy with ocean's marge;
A veilèd tomb she swallows up the gold
Of kings in revelry,
And with pure devilry
Grows brighter like a plant from burial mould,
Enriched by every sacrifice of wealth;
414
Of that red lip,
Seen through its musky mantle dusky,
From fame and fortune draws its ruddy health.
Languid, libidinous,
In her sandal wood
And shadowed shame's retreat, at each quick beat
Of her hot pulse, whatever we would hide in us
She reads to ravish in unwomanhood;
Each separate ruby of her costly chain
Is but the vanity
Of some humanity,
The life of man, by her fierce passion slain.
Mad tears and sighs are mingled with the thread
That gathers tight
Her limbs of light,
In the gay glitter yet so bitter
Of that rich robe whose stitches are the dead.
In her sandal wood
And shadowed shame's retreat, at each quick beat
Of her hot pulse, whatever we would hide in us
She reads to ravish in unwomanhood;
Each separate ruby of her costly chain
Is but the vanity
Of some humanity,
The life of man, by her fierce passion slain.
Mad tears and sighs are mingled with the thread
That gathers tight
Her limbs of light,
In the gay glitter yet so bitter
Of that rich robe whose stitches are the dead.
I see her lazily
Couched with wanton eyes
And haunted looks as deep as doom and sleep,
That through their curtained lashes glimmer hazily,
As on a fallen earth might fallen skies;
I know the storming of her lustful stress,
A hell importunate
For souls unfortunate
Trapt in the toils of her hard tenderness.
And yet I flutter to my certain fate,
Lured by desires
Like wreckers' fires,
In carnal struggling joys of juggling,
Compelled by love that is but one with hate.
Couched with wanton eyes
And haunted looks as deep as doom and sleep,
That through their curtained lashes glimmer hazily,
As on a fallen earth might fallen skies;
I know the storming of her lustful stress,
A hell importunate
For souls unfortunate
Trapt in the toils of her hard tenderness.
And yet I flutter to my certain fate,
Lured by desires
Like wreckers' fires,
In carnal struggling joys of juggling,
Compelled by love that is but one with hate.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |