The Book of Jade

The Book of Jade

TABLE PRELUDE PART ONE Ashtoreth Parfait Amour Opium Sombre Sonnet Languor Ennui Litany Harvard Pride Song of Golden Youth Mais Moi Je Vis La Vie En Rouge Louanges D'Elle Hlas Sonnet Sonnet Rondeau Autumn Song Ballad Changelessness Madonna Poppy Song Consolation Liebes-Tod Evening Song Song of the Stars in Praise of Her Aubade Remember Song Song Constancy Requiem Autumn Burial Sonnet of Burial Nocturne PART TWO Mad Sonnet The House of Youth De Profundis Prayer Sestettes Sonnet of the Instruments of Death Truth Hegel Monotony Sepulture Miserrimus Scorn The Grave Mummy Sepulchral Life Corpse Mankind The Defilers The Grotesques Dead Dialogue Fragments Envoi POSTLUDE Dedication I am a little tired of all things mortal; I see through half-shut eyelids languorous The old monotonous Gold sun set slowly through the western portal, Where I recline upon my deep dwn, In Ispahn. I am a little weary of the Persian Girl that I lov'd; I am quite tir'd of love; And I am weary of The smoking censers, and the sweet diversion Of stroking Leila's jasmine-scented hair, I thought so fair. At last I think I am quite tired of beauty; Why do the stars shine always in the sky? I think if I might die, Something more sweet, less tiring than the duty Of kissing her, might be; I am tired of myrrh, And kissing her. Khaled, come, come, and slowly move the scented Gold narghil away; let the lyres cease. And now a little peace! For see, moon-faced Leila hath repented Of singing Hafiz' songs melodiously, And languidly. Surely all things are vain, and great thanksgiving Is due not; surely all things now are vain; And all my heart is fain Of something, something, far too great for living; Nothing is very sad, nor wonderful, Nor beautiful. Well now, since all things are not worth the winning, Goodbye! With these I have a little play'd; And once, alas, I pray'd That gorgeous, golden sins be mine for sinning; But now I would not leave my palanquin For any sin. And long ago I prov'd in great compassion For man, that Brahm is not nor ever was; But now, alas, alas I would he were, that in the olden fashion I might laugh once again ere all is said; But Brahm is dead. Then with philosophy I bor'd me duly; And since I could not slumber all the time, I, in sweet golden rhyme, On white papyrus scented with patchouli Wrote masterpieces starry-beautiful. The earth was full. So beauty wearied me; in order slowly Love, Joy, and Victory came unto me; I kiss'd them languidly; And Virtue came, and Duty, stiff and holy; To these I saidPray come another day; And turn'd away. Now since of all I am a little weary, And since on earth I must a while sojourn, And since a while must burn The censer of my long existence dreary, All things shall walk, that own my mastery, In luxury. My Ennui shall in vestments falling lowly, Stiff, purple, trailing, long, episcopal Sweep through her palace hall, Like to a consecrated bishop holy; My Sin from golden goblets of Byzant Shall drink absinthe. And my gold-crowned wanton goddess Pleasure, (My candles are all burning at her shrine) Shall be made drunk with wine, And walk unto the velvet-falling measure Of golden-voiced, solemn-sounding shawms. No rhyme for shawms. All they that wait upon me in my glory, My purple Pride, and my Luxuriousness, And my Voluptuousness, Shall show within their faces transitory Something more subtile than all life can give, While I shall live.... Ah, all is liv'd, all eaten, all is drunken! Soul, is there anything now left for thee Excepting sanctity? Nay, ev'n we too have been in virtue sunken, We have been holy priest, we have confess'd, Said, Missa Est. I have drunk out of heavy goblets golden, As from some hellish tabernaculum Cannabis, conium; I know quite all the poisons, all the olden Sins, all the tnbreux dark secrets hid, And things forbid. I have had all things unto mortals given, I all the women, all the passion I, All the satiety; I have had all the pleasures known in heaven, Paradisiacal, purpureal, Exstatical. With all the sciences I am acquainted, Alas! I know quite all the languages, All the philosophies, Alas! and all the pictures that are painted, And all the palac'd capitals that be Have wearied me. Alas, all art, all knowledge, and all passion I have had: I have heard all the symphonies; I have sail'd all the seas; I have drain'd all life's cup in languid fashion; And I am come to Persia again, Land of cocagne. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 46827
Author: Barnitz, David Park
Release Date: Sep 10, 2014
Format: eBook
Language: English