On; On; Poet poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster

A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)

I to the open road,

You to the hunchbacked street –

Which of us two

Shall the earlier rue

That day we chanced to meet?

I with a heart that’s sound,

You with sick fancies of pain –

Which of us two

Would the earlier rue

If we chanced to meet again?

I jingle homely lore,

While you rhyme is with kiss –

Which of us two

Will the earlier rue

The love of the Hoylake Miss?

Not I the first to go,

Nor I the first to deceive –

Which of us two

Shall the the earliest rue

Our garden of make-believe?

You were a Chinese god,

I an offering fair,

As we entered the

Garden of Allah,

To sing our holy prayer.

Entered with hearts bowed low,

Yet I heard a voice that cried:

For he is the god of the

Sacrifice,

You are the crucified.

It was all make-believe,

A foolish game of play,

Our garden of Allah

A drawing-room,

Our Chinese god of clay.

Strings of bruises for pearls,

Tears for forget-me-nots,

And a deadly pain

Of the sickening shame

Watching the fading spots.

As quickly they faded,

The heart of me faded as well,

Until nothing is left

Of my garden,

But a soul sunk to hell.

Hail!

Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaire,

No more together we’ll enter the

Enchanted garden of make-believe,

Nor my sad soul listen while thine deceive.

No more you’ll be the God of Sacrifice,

Nor I the crucified.

Ah, Garden of Allah -how bitter sweet

Thy fruit. Why breakest thou the heart?

Why spoilest thou the soul with notes

From thy golden lute?

Lo! our garden a common room

Our Chinese god burnt clay, and

The singing of verses a funeral hymn

That awakes with awakening day.

‘Twas all such a meaningless play,

Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaitre.

Hail!

Poet, take my hand -we’ll walk

Still a little way.

I’ll not desert thee at the close of day,

I, too, must pray.

A beggar asking alms of passers-by,

Does not refuse a drink to one who’s dry

That once by him did lie.

Poet, come close -before I leave for aye

Take thou my hand, we’ll walk still

A little way.

One garment covered both to keep us warm,

What harmed the one, was’t not the other’s harm?

Close clasped, one single form.

Was it not meant of aye?

Poet, take thou my hand -we’ll still

Walk a little way.

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Poems in English 

• Sonnet 20: A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 1: From fairest creatures we desire increase by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 19: Devouring Time blunt thou the lion’s paws by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 17: Who will believe my verse in time to come by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 16: But wherefore do not you a mightier way by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 15: When I consider every thing that grows by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 154: The little Love-god lying once asleep by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 153: Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 152: In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 151: Love is too young to know what conscience is by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 150: O from what power hast thou this powerful might by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 14: Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 53: What is your substance, whereof are you made by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 52: So am I as the rich whose blessèd key by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 51: Thus can my love excuse the slow offence by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 50: How heavy do I journey on the way by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 4: Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 49: Against that time, if ever that time come by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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