Antichrist, or the Reunion of Christendom: An Ode

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1. To My Name-Child 1 Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you learn with proper speed, Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read. Then you shall discover, that your name was printed down By the English printers, long before, in London town. In the great and busy city where the East and West are met, All […]...
2. Bones Said Mr. Smith, “I really cannot Tell you, Dr. Jones- The most peculiar pain I’m in- I think it’s in my bones.” Said Dr. Jones, “Oh, Mr. Smith, That’s nothing. Without doubt We have a simple cure for that; It is to take them out.” He laid forthwith poor Mr. Smith Close-clamped upon the table, […]...
3. The Tent Only the stars endome the lonely camp, Only the desert leagues encompass it; Waterless wastes, a wilderness of wit, Embattled Cold, Imagination’s Cramp. Now were the Desolation fain to stamp The congealed Spirit of man into the pit, Save that, unquenchable because unlit, The Love of God burns steady, like a Lamp. It burns! beyond […]...
4. Reunion a) This spirited assemblage Is a placid pilgrimage: The girls and boys we were B) A blink is all it takes Before we flock again As grandparents C) As soon as we part We can all sum it up Into a personal haiku...
5. Whats The Use Of A Title? They dont make it The beautiful die in flame – Sucide pills, rat poison, rope what – Ever… They rip their arms off, Throw themselves out of windows, They pull their eyes out of the sockets, Reject love Reject hate Reject, reject. They do’nt make it The beautiful can’t endure, They are butterflies They are […]...
6. Reunion For more than thirty years we hadn’t met. I remembered the bright query of your face, That single-minded look, intense and stern, Yet most important – how could I forget?- Was what your taught me inadvertantly (tutored by books and parents, even more By my own awe at what was yet to learn): The finest […]...
7. The New Freethinker John Grubby who was short and stout And troubled with religious doubt, Refused about the age of three To sit upon the curate’s knee; (For so the eternal strife must rage Between the spirit of the age And Dogma, which, as is well known, Does simply hate to be outgrown). Grubby, the young idea that […]...
8. The Lamp burns sure within The Lamp burns sure within Tho’ Serfs supply the Oil It matters not the busy Wick At her phosphoric toil! The Slave forgets to fill The Lamp burns golden on Unconscious that the oil is out As that the Slave is gone....
9. The Batchelors Song Like a Dog with a bottle, fast ti’d to his tail, Like Vermin in a trap, or a Thief in a Jail, Or like a Tory in a Bog, Or an Ape with a Clog: Such is the man, who when he might go free, Does his liberty loose, For a Matrimony noose, And sels […]...
10. A Noon Song There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon; But who will give praise to the fulness of light, And sing us a song of the glory of noon? Oh, the high noon, the clear noon, The noon with golden crest; When the blue […]...
11. My Papa's Waltz The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans Slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother’s countenance Could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist Was battered on one knuckle; At every step you missed […]...
12. A Busy Man This crowded life of God’s good giving No man has relished more than I; I’ve been so goldarned busy living I’ve never had the time to die. So busy fishing, hunting, roving, Up on my toes and fighting fit; So busy singing, laughing, loving, I’ve never had the time to quit. I’ve never been one […]...
13. The Cross of Snow In the long, sleepless watches of the night, A gentle face the face of one long dead Looks at me from the wall, where round its head The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. Here in this room she died; and soul more white Never through martyrdom of fire was led To its repose; […]...
14. The Knights Of St. John Oh, nobly shone the fearful cross upon your mail afar, When Rhodes and Acre hailed your might, O lions of the war! When leading many a pilgrim horde, through wastes of Syrian gloom; Or standing with the cherub’s sword before the holy tomb. Yet on your forms the apron seemed a nobler armor far, When […]...
15. Le Gout du Néant Morne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte, L’Espoir, dont l’éperon attisait ton ardeur, Ne veut plus t’enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur, Vieux cheval dont le pied à chaque obstacle bute. Résigne-toi, mon coeur; dors ton sommeil de brute. Esprit vaincu, fourbu! Pour toi, vieux maraudeur, L’amour n’a plus de gout, non plus que la dispute; Adieu […]...
16. The people tangwena says this is our land soiled by the blood of black centuries Smith says the white tongue goes bang bang black must learn words of a new march Tangwena says every tree here is made in the image of a black ghost Smith says the white tongue goes bang bang you must make your […]...
17. Flag of the Southern Cross Sons of Australia, be loyal and true to her – Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross! Sing a loud song to be joyous and new to her – Fling out the flag of the Southern Cross! Stain’d with the blood of the diggers who died by it, Fling out the flag to the […]...
18. 225. SongвЂ"Of a’ the Airts the Wind can Blaw OF 1 a’ the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the west, For there the bonie lassie lives, The lassie I lo’e best: There’s wild-woods grow, and rivers row, And mony a hill between: But day and night my fancys’ flight Is ever wi’ my Jean. I see her in the dewy flowers, […]...
19. Near Avalon A ship with shields before the sun, Six maidens round the mast, A red-gold crown on every one, A green gown on the last. The fluttering green banners there Are wrought with ladies’ heads most fair, And a portraiture of Guenevere The middle of each sail doth bear. A ship with sails before the wind, […]...
20. How In All Wonder How in all wonder Columbus got over, That is a marvel to me, I protest, Cabot, and Raleigh too, that well-read rover, Frobisher, Dampier, Drake and the rest. Bad enough all the same, For them that after came, But, in great Heaven’s name, How he should ever think That on the other brink Of this […]...
21. Cotton Song Come, brother, come. Lets lift it; Come now, hewit! roll away! Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day But lets not wait for it. God’s body’s got a soul, Bodies like to roll the soul, Cant blame God if we dont roll, Come, brother, roll, roll! Cotton bales are the fleecy way, Weary sinner’s bare feet […]...
22. Stout Marches Lead To Certain Ends STOUT marches lead to certain ends, We seek no Holy Grail, my friends – That dawn should find us every day Some fraction farther on our way. The dumb lands sleep from east to west, They stretch and turn and take their rest. The cock has crown in the steading-yard, But priest and people slumber […]...
23. Miracles I dreamt I saw a huge grey boat in silence steaming Down a canal; it drew the dizzy landscape after; The solemn world was sucked along with it-a streaming Land-slide of loveliness. O, but I rocked with laughter, Staring, and clinging to my tree-top. For a lake Of gleaming peace swept on behind. (I mustn’t […]...
24. He Hears The Cry Of The Sedge I wander by the edge Of this desolate lake Where wind cries in the sedge: Until the axle break That keeps the stars in their round, And hands hurl in the deep The banners of East and West, And the girdle of light is unhound, Your breast will not lie by the breast Of your […]...
25. 263. Song-The Gardener wi' his Paidle WHEN rosy May comes in wi’ flowers, To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers, Then busy, busy are his hours, The Gard’ner wi’ his paidle. The crystal waters gently fa’, The merry bards are lovers a’, The scented breezes round him blaw- The Gard’ner wi’ his paidle. When purple morning starts the hare To steal upon […]...
26. Anna Comnena In the prologue to her Alexiad, Anna Comnena laments her widowhood. Her soul is dizzy. “And with rivers Of tears,” she tells us “I wet My eyes… Alas for the waves” in her life, “alas for the revolts.” Pain burns her “to the the bones and the marrow and the cleaving of the soul.” But […]...
27. The Ballad of G. R. Dibbs This is the story of G. R. D., Who went on a mission across the sea To borrow some money for you and me. This G. R. Dibbs was a stalwart man Who was built on a most extensive plan, And a regular staunch Republican. But he fell in the hands of the Tory crew […]...
28. Book Lover I keep collecting books I know I’ll never, never read; My wife and daughter tell me so, And yet I never head. “Please make me,” says some wistful tome, “A wee bit of yourself.” And so I take my treasure home, And tuck it in a shelf. And now my very shelves complain; They jam […]...
29. The Mystery Of Mister Smith For supper we had curried tripe. I washed the dishes, wound the clock; Then for awhile I smoked my pipe – Puff! Puff! We had no word of talk. The Misses sewed – a sober pair; Says I at last: “I need some air.” A don’t know why I acted so; I had no thought, […]...
30. THE GOOD PART, THAT SHALL NOT BE TAKEN AWAY She dwells by Great Kenhawa’s side, In valleys green and cool; And all her hope and all her pride Are in the village school. Her soul, like the transparent air That robes the hills above, Though not of earth, encircles there All things with arms of love. And thus she walks among her girls With […]...
31. He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake, Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white; The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night, The East her hidden joy before the morning break, The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away, The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire: O […]...
32. Like the Touch of Rain Like the touch of rain she was On a man’s flesh and hair and eyes When the joy of walking thus Has taken him by surprise: With the love of the storm he burns, He sings, he laughs, well I know how, But forgets when he returns As I shall not forget her ‘Go now’. […]...
33. A Verseman's Apology Alas! I am only a rhymer, I don’t know the meaning of Art; But I learned in my little school primer To love Eugene Field and Bret Harte. I hailed Hoosier Ryley with pleasure, To John Hay I took off my hat; These fellows were right to my measure, And I’ve never gone higher than […]...
34. Two Graves First Ghost To sepulcher my mouldy bones I bough a pile of noble stones, And half a year a sculptor spent To hew my marble monument, The stateliest to rear its head In all this city of the dead. And generations passing through Will gape, and ask: What did he do To earn this tomb […]...
35. Afternoon When I am old, and comforted, And done with this desire, With Memory to share my bed And Peace to share my fire, I’ll comb my hair in scalloped bands Beneath my laundered cap, And watch my cool and fragile hands Lie light upon my lap. And I will have a sprigged gown With lace […]...
36. The Floor The floor is something we must fight against. Whilst seemingly mere platform for the human Stance, it is that place that men fall to. I am not dizzy. I stand as a tower, a lighthouse; The pale ray of my sentiency flowing from my face. But should I go dizzy I crash down into the […]...
37. The Battle of Glencoe Twas in the month of October, and in the year of 1899, Which the Boers will remember for a very long time, Because by the British Army they received a crushing blow; And were driven from Smith’s Hill at the Battle of Glencoe. The Boers’ plan of the battle was devised with great skill, And […]...
38. Reverence I saw the Greatest Man on Earth, Aye, saw him with my proper eyes. A loin-cloth spanned his proper girth, But he was naked otherwise, Excepting for his grey sombrero; And when his domelike head he bared, With reverence I stared and stared, As mummified as any Pharaoh. He leaned upon a little cane, A […]...
39. My Father’s Hats Sunday mornings I would reach High into his dark closet while standing on a chair and tiptoeing reach Higher, touching, sometimes fumbling the soft crowns and imagine I was in a forest, wind hymning through pines, where the musky scent Of rain clinging to damp earth was his scent I loved, lingering on Bands, leather, […]...
40. Willie ‘Why did the lady in the lift Slap that poor parson’s face?’ Said Mother, thinking as she sniffed, Of clerical disgrace. Said Sonny Boy: ‘Alas, I know. My conscience doth accuse me; The lady stood upon my toe, Yet did not say “Excuse me!” ‘She hurt and in that crowd confined I scarcely could endure […]...