Chapter IV

From the lesser gods to their masters, Time and Eternity,
I turned--to crave the single boon that they could give to me.
“I am the Pilgrim of Passion who ever must choose and grieve
Between the earth-born daughters of Lilith and of Eve.
For I have lost my way twixt Heaven and Hell and Earth,
Give me oblivion,” I said, “or grant me another birth!
Grant me another encasement where the flesh shall be the soul,
Where good shall be as evil and pole as anti-pole.
Let Lilith and her sister, both back into night be thrust,
Fashion Woman anew out of their astral dust.
Dreams of impossible joy and impossible loveliness meet
_When beautiful Helen of Troy shall be one with the blonde Marguerite_.”

MAN TO HIS MAKER

From the white ulcer of thy snow,
From the green leprosy of spring,
Preserve us, Lord, whose mercies sting,
Whose loaded dice win every throw.

Foredoomed to perish in the strife
With maggots fattened by thy breath,
Free us from life’s mad lover--death,
And save us from death’s nightmare--life.

Blind microscopic molluscs we,
Beneath thy scorn that spawn and squirm,
Redeem us from thy gloating worm
And from the consciousness of thee.

If play we must this sorry role
For thy amusement, spare the cant:
Make man equal of the ant,
Celestial Sadist! Take the soul.

And crush us back into the sod,
Whose fate is futile utterly,
Save as a prank of destiny
Played by a bored and bilious god.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

The drop-caps and uppercase letters from the beginning of each poem were removed for clarity purposes.

Spelling errors and typos were corrected.

A Table of Contents was created for this edition.

New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.