DO not crave sure ease – to quaff
Clear crystal cups abrim with wine,
When lips are fain to mock and laugh
And the dull earth appears divine.
I crave not for the revelry
Of banquets or a purchased kiss;
The laboured mirth of those who flee
The thought of life, I crave not this.
For I have toiled and mourned and laughed;
The frenzy of abortive mirth
Lurked in the tingling wine I quaffed;
And she has loved, I know her worth.
The mirror of man’s longing, she
Seems sweetest In the sweet desired.
Frail vapid shape of flesh; and he
Yields her the passion she inspired.
With wine my soul I surfeited –
Love, rank in folly, ne’er could win
Me to her lust and lures unwed –
Thus have I triumphed over sin.
But O to see the morning sun
Burst over long green plains of grass,
To know, although the night is done.
That I am what I always was
I shall not humble this my pride
Nor beg some god to elevate
Me from the fluctuating tide.
For I shall ride above my fate.
Nor shall I moulder in repose
As they who smile and then bemoan
Their ways, and cant of love, as those
Who slobber round some idol’s throne.
But O that I might stretch above
The universe and feel and see
All that my hope has whispered of.
Though writhing with quick agony !
Let me have fortitude enough
To be reliant on the light
That shines within, however rough
The way, however thick the night.
(The blackness of the sunset hill
It could not be, did not there shine
The sun beyond – does death fulfil
Our lives to prove we are divine?)
All I have mourned to me but seems,
Because beyond my vision, fell;
The light that glorifies my dreams
Is powerful in the world as well.
To laugh and strive and yet to steel
My heart to meet whatever fate
The darkest future may reveal,
Then am I strong though desolate.
Eternal life is my one right,
And as the world is, such are we;
Have I not scorned my youth’s delight
And smiled supreme in agony?
I welcome either pang or feast,
I am content to stand alone;
And though the night hang thick, at least
The turgid night is all mine own.
How should I mourn the griefs that I
Can ne’er express? – Had I the strength
To tell of death then I should die
The conqueror of death at length!
With wine my soul I surfeited,
And woman ever I disown,
So to base passion I am dead:
I am content to stand alone;
Chill fear I wooed to sap my might
Since joy returns to misery .
And I have scorned my youth’s delight
And laughed supreme in agony!
(E J Rupert Atkinson)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, God Poems, Life Poems, World Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Mind Poems, Sadness Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Dreams PoemsBased on Keywords: turgid, glorifies, elevate, unwed, abortive, abrim, fluctuating, surfeited, slobber, reliant