This is the spell of the Orient &mdash
The lure of the far, far East,
A lure that is soft and luxuriant &mdash
A bidding to sate of a feast
That is spread with the viands of pleasure,
Replenished again and again;
And music, each sensuous measure
Attuned to the passions of men;
In a land where little is given &mdash
Where the game is to buy and sell;
In a land with the virtues of Heaven &mdash
A land with the sinning of Hell.
You come to the East with a conscience
And the failures of others to guide;
For a while you are upright and honest &mdash
And God only knows how you tried;
Striving at first to be decent &mdash
Fighting, and losing the fight;
Taking a drink to be social &mdash
Hitting it up for the night;
Then you fall, like the other poor devils &mdash
Succumb with a grace of your fate;
It’s the spell of the East that has got you,
As it gets them all, soon or late.
It’s the lure of the fly to the grayling &mdash
Gaudy, and brilliant hued;
But men are the fools who are trailing &mdash
And Satan is casting the food;
It’s the call of the quail in the cover &mdash
The lure of the flame to the moth;
The call of the thrush for its lover &mdash
The call of the mate to betroth;
Softly at first it steals o’er you &mdash
Dreamy and sweet, like a breath
Of incense or sandal, o’erwhelming
Your senses, and silent as death;
Till the air grows heavy with perfume &mdash
You’re happy, without and within,
Little you care for what may be &mdash
And less for what might have been.
The blissful siesta a midday &mdash
The drive, in the late afternoon;
And then for the nightly revel &mdash
Women, and wine, and the moon;
The feasting, the music, the dancing &mdash
The clandestine moments between;
The sweet-scented gardens enhancing
A flight from the ball-room scene;
White shoulders agleam in the moonlight,
A form that is truly divine;
Eyes with the dull glow of passion &mdash
Tongues that are loosened by wine;
The clinking of glasses, and pledges
Sealed with a kiss of champagne;
Rollicking songs and laughter &mdash
A speech from a reeling brain.
Women as fair as a lily &mdash
Hair that glistens and glows;
Skin with the softness of velvet,
And white as Fuji’s snows;
Lips with the blush of roses,
Eyes that sparkle with wine;
The perfume of blown cheery blossoms,
And flowered wistaria vine;
But the roses will fade in the morning,
When the rouge and the powder are gone;
The eyes will cease to be sparkling &mdash
The cheeks will be pale and wan.
You are down in the native quarter
Taking a last little fling,
Where the samisens creak their weird melodies,
And the geisha girls dance and sing;
The stars are reeling and dancing,
And love is afloat on the breeze;
Virtue is drowned in a bumper &mdash
And care in the seven seas;
The tropical moon is a bibber &mdash
And he’s not the only one;
The bubbles of life are bursting &mdash
And the night is not half begun.
Alone in your ricksha at day-break &mdash
Remorseful, and bitter with hate;
Back to your ship, or your barracks&mdash
Going on duty at eight.
And so the night’s revel is ended &mdash
And all of the nights are the same;
Some are more hellish than others,
But none of the nights are tame;
Thus it has been from beginning &mdash
Thus will it be to the end;
A power that draws men to sinning &mdash
A force that will crush, and will rend;
A lure that is soft and luxuriant &mdash
A bidding to sate of a feast;
This is the spell of the Orient &mdash
The lure of the far, far East.
(Burt Franklin Jenness)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, Life Poems, Night Poems, Mind Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Heaven Poems, Sense & Perception Poems, Happiness Poems, Fate & Destiny Poems, Morning PoemsBased on Keywords: replenished, betroth, rollicking, succumb, ball-room, sweet-scented, hued, viands, sandal, remorseful, barracks