I am the world's imperishable desire;Life is because I will, for hope of meLife is, nor all the dark depths of the seaCould quench mine eyes' light nor my body's fire.Fresh hyacinth and the violent rose suspire,The black clod breaks to green eternally.Sap thrills to parturition the naked tree,--Of all things living I only cannot tire.I am the world's interminable sin;Yea! In my power and lust beyond control,Things mortal wage the war of life and win.For me the slave defies the master's rod.And while the antique pride swells within his soulThe man reclaims his liberty of God!
My face lives always in the quenchless light,Frail gold of twilight burns across my breast,The red dusk girds me and my limbs are pressedIn warm, wan shadows deepening down to night.My hair, red gold on brows of faultless white,Inspires earth's children to my fatal quest;Youth's passionate face in mortal hope of restGrows blind against me, wearying of my might.With ravenous lips men scourge my lustrous fleshAnd crowd the quivering dusk with nameless sin;Death takes them, still insatiate, from my mesh.Viewless, my feet pash down the one who dies,While, sprung aloft from earth he festers in,I watch the last-born laughing in mine eyes!
Once was my name as fire, and once my wineFlushed in the veins of youth, and once the strong,The wise, the lyric, leaped beneath my thongOf love and hailed me human and divine!Mine was the world's confessed desire and mineThe echoing thunder of the seas of song,Priests, virgins, youths -- a florid, sumptuous throng --Gave me luxurious service at my shrine!Now tho', bereft, I seem perchance as oneSmothered in night whose memory keeps the flush,The fire and huge transcendence of the sun,Still, in the apostate world, my fight I knowIs won, and still the lips of manhood crush,And still the pained blood throbs thro' limbs of snow!
For me, the eldest and the loveliest God,For me and for my equal happinessThe woman aches with sweet maternal stress,The slow seed breaks beneath the reeking sod.For me the strong, swift feet of dawn are shodWith fire, for me the flowers' frail petals pressFearless and faithful, and warm winds caressThe violet sea-ways where of old I trod.For me the long, resounding years returnWith gradual seasons, and the stately sunShepherds thro' void infinity his brood;And only thro' my knowledge man may turn,To larger consciousness the soul has won.Leaving his outworn body for my food.
