Boo to Buddha poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster

A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)

So it is eighteen years,

Helena, since we met!

A season so endears,

Nor you nor I forget

The fresh young faces that once clove

In that most fiery dawn of love.

We wandered to and fro,

Who knew not how to woo,

Those eighteen years ago,

Sweetheart, when I and you

Exchanged high vows in heaven’s sight

That scarce survived a summer’s night.

What scourge smote from the stars

What madness from the moon?

That night we broke the bars

Was quintessential June,

When you and I beneath the trees

Bartered our bold virginities.

Eighteen -years, months, or hours?

Time is a tyrant’s toy!

Eternal are the flowers!

We are but girl and boy

Yet -since love leapt as swift to-night

As it had never left the light!

For fiercer from the South

Still flames your cruel hair,

And Trojan Helen’s mouth

Still not so ripe and rare

As Helena’s -nor love nor youth

So leaps with lust or thrills with truth.

Helena, still we hold

Flesh firmer, still we mix

Black hair with hair as gold.

Life has but served to fix

Our hearts; love lingers on the tongue,

And who loves once is always young.

The stars are still the same;

The changeful moon endures;

Come without fear or shame,

And draw my mouth to yours!

Youth fails, however flesh be fain;

Manhood and womanhood attain.

Life is a string of pearls,

And you the first I strung.

You left -first flower of girls! –

Life lyric on my tongue,

An indefatigable dance,

An inexhaustible romance!

Blush of love’s dawn, bright bud

That bloomed for my delight,

First blossom of my blood,

Burn in that blood to-night!

Helena, Helena, fiercely fresh,

Your flesh flies fervent to my flesh.

What sage can dare impugn

Man’s immortality?

Our godhead swims, immune

From death and destiny.

Ignored the bubble in the flow

Of love eighteen short years ago!

Time -I embrace all time

As my arm rings your waist.

Space -you surpass, sublime,

As, taking me, we taste

Omnipotence, sense slaying sense,

Soul slaying soul, omniscience.

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• Elegy VII. Anno Aetates Undevigesimo (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy VI. To Charles Diodati, When He Was Visiting In The Country (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy V. Anno Aet. 20. On The Approach Of Spring (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy III. Anno Aet. 17. On The Death Of The Bishop Of Winchester (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy II. On The Death Of The University Beadle At Cambridge (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper
• Elegy I. To Charles Deodati (Translated From Milton) by William Cowper by William Cowper

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