All Poems
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Independence
© Aleister Crowley
Come to my arms --- is it eve? is it morn?
Is Apollo awake? Is Diana reborn?
Are the streams in full song? Do the woods whisper hush
Is it the nightingale? Is it the thrush?
Hymn to Pan
© Aleister Crowley
Thrill with lissome lust of the light,
O man ! My man !
Come careering out of the night
Of Pan ! Io Pan .
Hymn to Lucifer
© Aleister Crowley
Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?
Without its climax, death, what savour hath
Life? an impeccable machine, exact
He paces an inane and pointless path
Soneto XVII
© Pablo Neruda
o te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
Happy Dust
© Aleister Crowley
For Margot
Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings
To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, the abode of
ineffable things,
Who makes these changes?
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Who makes these changes?
I shoot an arrow right.
It lands left.
I ride after a deer and find myself
Elegy
© Aleister Crowley
Here rests beneath this hospitable spot
A youth to flats and flatties not unknown.
The Plymouth Brethren gave it to him hot;
Trinity, Cambridge, claimed him for her own.
Dumb
© Aleister Crowley
Gabriel whispered in mine ear
His archangelic poesie.
How can I write? I only hear
The sobbing murmur of the sea.
Exile From God
© John Hall Wheelock
I do not fear to lay my body down
In death, to share
The life of the dark earth and lose my own,
If God is there.
Dionysus
© Aleister Crowley
I bring ye wine from above,
From the vats of the storied sun;
For every one of yer love,
And life for every one.
Love Sonnet LX
© Zora Bernice May Cross
Dearest, you have, who gave my heart such love,
It sang the marriage of our mingling blood;
Sweeping us on in a supreme control,
To those vast stillnesses that move above;
And in the wonder of its mighty flood
My mind drew God from your eternal soul.
Colophon
© Aleister Crowley
TO LAYLAH EIGHT-AND-TWENTYLamp of living loveliness,
Maid miraculously male,
Rapture of thine own excess
Blushing through the velvet veil
Boo to Buddha
© Aleister Crowley
So it is eighteen years,
Helena, since we met!
A season so endears,
Nor you nor I forget
The fresh young faces that once clove
In that most fiery dawn of love.
Divine Compassion
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Long since, a dream of heaven I had,
And still the vision haunts me oft;
Ave Adonai
© Aleister Crowley
Am I not wholly stript
Of the deeds and thoughts that obscure thee?
I wait for thee, my soul distraught
With aching for some nameless naught
In its most arcane crypt-
Am I not fit to endure thee?
Au Bal
© Aleister Crowley
[Dedicated to Horace Sheridan-Bickers]A vision of flushed faces, shining limbs,
The madness of the music that entrances
All life in its delirium of dances!
The white world glitters in the void, and swims
The Well of Loch Maree
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Calm on the breast of Loch Maree
A little isle reposes;
A shadow woven of the oak
And willow o'er it closes.
Athor and Asar
© Aleister Crowley
[Dedicated to Frank Harris, editor of Vanity Fair]On the black night, beneath the winter moon,
I clothed me in the limbs of Codia,
Swooning my soul out into her red throat,
So that the glimmer of our skins, the tune
Hypocrite Auteur
© Archibald MacLeish
mon semblable, mon frère
(1)
Our epoch takes a voluptuous satisfaction
In that perspective of the action
Which pictures us inhabiting the end
Of everything with death for only friend.
At Sea
© Aleister Crowley
As night hath stars, more rare than ships
In ocean, faint from pole to pole,
So all the wonder of her lips
Hints her innavigable soul.
