Power poem – Aleister Crowley poems | Poetry Monster

A poem by Alistar Crowley (1875-1947)

The mighty sound of forests murmuring

In answer to the dread command;

The stars that shudder when their king

extends his hand,

His awful hand to bless, to curse; or moves

Toward the dimmest den

In the thick leaves, not known of loves

Or nymphs or men;

(Only the sylph’s frail gossamer may wave

Their quiet frondage yet,

Only her dewy tears may lave

The violet;)

The mighty answer of the shaken sky

To his supreme behest; the call

Of Ibex that behold on high

Night’s funeral,

And see the pale moon quiver and depart

Far beyond space, the sun ascend

And draw earth’s globe unto his heart

To make an end;

The shriek of startled birds; the sobs that tear

With sudden terror the sharp sea

That slept, and wove its golden hair

Most mournfully;

The rending of the earth at his command

Who wields the wrath of heaven, and is dumb;

Hell starts up; and before his hand

Is overcome.

I heard these voices, and beheld afar

These dread works wrought at his behest:

And on his forehead, lo! a star,

And on his breast.

And on his feet I knew the sandals were

More beautiful than flame, and white,

And on the glory of his hair

The crown of night.

And I beheld his robe, and on its hem

Were writ unlawful words to say,

Broidered like lilies, with a gem

More clear than day.

And round him shone so wonderful a light

As when on Galilee

Jesus once walked, and clove the night,

And calmed the sea.

I scarce could see his features for the fire

That dwelt about his brow,

Yet, for the whiteness of my own desire,

I see him now;

Because my footsteps follow his, and tread

The awful bounds of heaven, and make

The very graves yield up their dead,

And high thrones shake;

Because my eyes still steadily behold

And dazzle not, nor shun the night,

The foam; born lamp of beaten gold

And secret might;

Because my forehead bears the sacred Name,

And my lips bear the brand

Of Him whose heaven is one flame,

Whose holy hand

Gathers this earth, who built the vaults of space,

Moulded the stars, and fixed the iron sea,

Because His love lights through my face

And all of me.

Because my hand may fasten on the sword

Of my heart falter not, and smite

Those lampless limits most abhorred

Of iron night,

And pass beyond their horror to attack

Fresh foemen, light and truth to bring

Through their untrodden fields of black,

A victor king.

I know all must be well, all must be free;

I know God as I know a friend;

I conquer, and most silently

Await the end.

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Poems in English 

• Sonnet 71: No longer mourn for me when I am dead by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 6: Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 69: Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 68: Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 67: Ah, wherefore with infection should he live by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 64: When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 62: Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 61: Is it thy will thy image should keep open by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 60: Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 5: Those hours, that with gentle work did frame by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 58: That god forbid, that made me first your slave by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 57: Being your slave, what should I do but tend by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 56: Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 55: Not marble, nor the gilded monuments by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 95: How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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