Laurence Hope

“ For this is Wisdom; to love, to live, To take what Fate, or the Gods, may give, To ask no question, to make no prayer, To kiss the lips and caress the hair, Speed passion's ebb as you greet its flow,— To have,—to hold,—and,—in time,—let go! And this is our Wisdom: we rest together On the great lone hills in the storm-filled weather, And watch the skies as they pale and burn, The golden stars in their orbits turn, While Love is with us, and Time and Peace, And life has nothing to give but these. ”

“ Here is beauty to feast thine eyes.
Here is the land of thy long desire.
See how the delicate spirals rise
Azure and faint from the wood-fed fire.
Where the cartmen wearily share their food,
Ere they, by their bullocks, lie down to rest.
Heart of mine, dost thou find it good
This wide red road by the winds caressed?
This lone Parao, where the fireflies light?
These tom-toms, fretting the peace of night?
Heart, thou hast wandered and suffered much,
Death has robbed thee, and Life betrayed,
But there is ever a solace for such
In that they are not lightly afraid. ”

“ Since fate has given us this garden love,
⁠And Time and Space, for once, have acquiesced,
Ah, take no heed of paling skies above
⁠Let us deem night is with us yet, and rest.
Let us lie still and drift away in dreams,
⁠Back to the jewelled kingdom of the night,
Whose golden stars with dimly radiant gleams
⁠Lit up your loveliness for my delight.
Once we are risen all the cares of day
⁠Will seize and bind us to their wanton will.
Why should we own that night has passed away?
⁠Oh, as you value love, lie still, lie still! ”

“ The Plains How one loves them These wide horizons; whether Desert or Sea,— Vague and vast and infinite; faintly clear— Surely, hid in the far away, unknown "There," Lie the things so longed for and found not, found not, Here. Only where some passionate, level land Stretches itself in reaches of golden sand, Only where the sea line is joined to the sky-line, clear, Beyond the curve of ripple or white foamed crest,— Shall the weary eyes Distressed by the broken skies,— Broken by Minaret, mountain, or towering tree,— Shall the weary eyes be assuaged,—be assuaged,—and rest. ”

“ But great is the charm of the River, so soft is the sigh of the reeds,
They give me, long sleepless from passion, the peace that my weariness needs.
I float on the breast of my River, and startle the birds on the edge,
To land on a newly found island, a boat that is caught in the sedge,
The rays of the sun are still level, not yet has the heat of the day
Deflowered the mists of the morning, that linger in delicate grey.
What land was his dwelling whose fancy first gave unto Paradise birth?
He never had swum in my River, or else he had fixed it on earth! ”

“ Beauty maddens the sense like Wine! "She triumphs to think that your heart is won, Stately, dark-eyed Lover of mine! I had not a thought of myself, not one: Beauty maddens the brain like Wine! "She will speak you softly, while skies are blue, Dear, deluded Lover of mine! I would lose both body and soul for you: Beauty maddens the brain like Wine! "While the ways are fair she will love you well, Dear, disdainful Lover of mine! But I would have followed you down to Hell: Beauty maddens the soul like Wine! "Though you lay at her feet the days to be, Now no longer Lover of mine! ”

“ Let the dim starlight, when the low clouds sunder,
Silver the perfect outline of thy face.
Such faces had the saints; I only wonder
That thine has sought my heart for resting-place.
The Dying Prince
There are no days for me any more, for the dawn is dark with tears,
There is no rest for me any more, for the night is thick with fears.
There are no flowers nor any fruit, for the sorrowful locusts came,
And the garden is but a memory, the vineyard only a name.
There is no light in the empty sky, no sail upon the sea,
Birds are yet on their nests perchance, but they sing no more to me. ”

“ Song by Valgovind The fields are full of Poppies, and the skies are very blue, By the Temple in the coppice, I wait, Beloved, for you. The level land is sunny, and the errant air is gay, With scent of rose and honey; will you come to me to-day? From carven walls above me, smile lovers; many a pair. "Oh, take this rose and love me!" she has twined it in her hair. He advances, she retreating, pursues and holds her fast, The sculptor left them meeting, in a close embrace at last. Through centuries together, in the carven stone they lie, In the glow of golden weather, and endless azure sky. ”

“ The Lover who only cared for thee?
Mine for a handful of nights, and thine
For the Nights that Are and the Days to Be,
The scent of the Champa lost its sweet—
So sweet is was in the Times that Were!—
Since His alone, of the numerous feet
That climb my steps, have returned not there.
Ahi, Yasmini, return not there!
Art thou yet athrill at the touch of His hand,
Art thou still athirst for His waving hair?
Nay, passion thou never couldst understand,
Life’s heights and depths thou wouldst never dare. ”

“ Pleasure is one with Pain, if too intense. I envy these: the steps that you will tread, The jasmin that will touch you by its leaves, When, in your slender height, you stoop your head At the low door beneath the palm-thatched eaves. For though you utterly belong to me, And love has done his utmost 'twixt us twain, Your slightest, careless touch yet seems to be That keen delight so much akin to pain. The night breeze blows across the still Lagoon, And stirs the Palm-trees till they wave above Our pile-built huts; Oh, come, my Lord, come soon, There is no Breeze to cool the heat of love. ”

“ Gold-lust, blind selfishness,—
The shortest, cheapest way to win
Some, worse than cheap, success.
Such are her attributes and aims,
Yet meekly we obey,
While she to guide and order claims
All issues of the day.
You seek for honour, friendship, truth?
Let Middle-age be banned!
Go, for warm-hearted acts, to Youth;
To Age,—to understand!
The Jungle Flower
Ah, the cool silence of the shaded hours,
The scent and colour of the jungle flowers!
Thou art one of the jungle flowers, strange and fierce and fair,
Palest amber, perfect lines, and scented with champa flower. ”

“ But yet, their lust, their hunger, cannot shame them Goaded by fierce desire, that flays and stings; Poor beasts, and poorer men. Nay, who shall blame them? Blame the Inherent Cruelty of Things. The world is horrible and I am lonely, Let me rest here where yellow roses bloom And find forgetfulness, remembering only Your face beside me in the scented gloom. Nay, do not shrink! I am not here for passion, I crave no love, only a little rest, Although I would my face lay, lover's fashion, Against the tender coolness of your breast. ”

“ Death shall take his pleasure in me.
I Arise and go Down to the River
I arise and go down to the River, and currents that come from the sea,
Still fresh with the salt of the ocean, are lovely and precious to me,
The waters are silver and silent, except where the kingfisher dips,
Or the ripples wash off from my shoulder the reddening stain of thy lips.
Two things make my joy at this moment: thy gold-coloured beauty by night,
And the delicate charm of the River, all pale in the day-breaking light,
So cool are the waters’ caresses. Ah, which is the lovelier,—this? ”