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.

Poetry Monster – Home

A few random poems:

External links

Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus

Talking Writing Monster’s Page –

Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh

Poems in English 

• Arrival by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• April Is The Saddest Month by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• Après le Bain by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• Approach Of Winter by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• A Sort Of A Song by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• A Goodnight by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• A Celebration by William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams
• Women And Roses by Robert Browning by Anglo File
• Venus, on a fur by Witty Fay by Anglo File
• Ultima Thule by William Ellery Leonard by Anglo File
• To the Victor by William Ellery Leonard by Anglo File
• The Image Of Delight by William Ellery Leonard by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 5 – How that vast heaven intitled First is roll’d, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 4 – Fair is my yoke, though grievous be my pains, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 3 – Ye who so curiously do paint your thoughts, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 2 – I know that all beneath the moon decays by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 14 – Nor Arne, nor Mincius, nor stately Tiber, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 13 – O sacred blush, impurpling cheeks’ pure skies by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 12 – Ah! burning thoughts, now let me take some rest, by William Drummond by Anglo File
• The First Part: Sonnet 11 – Lamp of heaven’s crystal hall that brings the hours, by William Drummond by Anglo File

More external links (open in a new tab):

Russian Commerce Agency

Dealing Monster

Doska or the Board – write anything

Search engines:

Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)

Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.

Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees

Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

Parallel Translations of Poetry

Poems by Author and Category

The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works