Many Gods Part 4

IV

And there the palms, the talipot with its lofty blossom-spire, The cocoanut and the slim areca listening await What sorceries of his trembling rays of equatorial fire Will next be laid upon some lesser mate.

V

The river, too, that he winds as a magic circle round the wealth He has here engendered, has the glide of a serpent lost in trance; And scents of clove and cinnamon that sip cool from it, in stealth Pour it upon the air like necromance.

VI

And down where the rain-tree and the rife breadfruit together lean Over its flow, and the flying-foxes hanging head to earth Suddenly drop then flap aloft on large bat-wing, is seen More of his mazing wizardry in birth.

VII

All day long it is so that his hot hypnotic eye commands With steady ray; and the earth obedient brings enchantment forth.

All night long in the humid dark the high-voiced hyla-bands Chant of it in chill strain from South to North.

VIII

A wondrous mage, in a land whose dreams are made reality As swift as clouds are made when the young Monsoon is in the South.

A land that is born of the sea and by it destined e'er to be Beyond all fear of famishing and drouth.

THE WIND'S WORD

A star that I love, The sea, and I, Spake together across the night.

"Have peace," said the star, "Have power," said the sea, "Yea!" I answered, "and Fame's delight!"

The wind on his way To Araby Paused and listened and sighed and said, "I pa.s.sed on the sands A Pharaoh's tomb: All these did he have--and he is dead."

THE SHRINE OF SHRINES

There is in Egypt by the ancient Nile A temple of imperishable stone, Stupendous, columned, hieroglyphed, and known To all the world as Faith's supremest shrine.

Half in debris it stands, a granite pile Gigantic, stayed midway in resurrection, An awe, an inspiration, a dejection To all who would the cryptic past divine.

The G.o.d of it was Ammon, and a throng Of worshippers from Thebes the royal-gated Forever at its fervid pylons waited While priests poured ever a prophetic song.

And yet this Ammon, who gave Egypt laws, Is not--and is forgot--and never was!

FROM A FELUCCA

A white tomb in the desert, An Arab at his prayers Beside the Nile's dark water, Where the lone camel fares.

An ibis on the sunset, A slow shadouf at rest, And in the caravansary Low music for the guest.

Above the tawny city A gleam of minarets, Resounding the muezzin's Clear call as the sun sets.

A mystery, a silence, A breathing of strange balm, A peace from Allah on the wind And on the sky his calm.

THE EGYPTIAN WAKES

I woke at night in my eternal tomb The desert sands had hid a thousand years, And heard the Nile-crier across the gloom Calling, "The flood has come! beseech the G.o.ds!"

I rose in haste, as one who blindly hears, And sought the barterers of grain and wine Culled for the praise and service of divine Great Isis, by the slave who for her plods.

But as I pa.s.sed along, woe! what was this, Strange faces and strange fashions and strange fanes Standing upon the midnight; Oh, the pains That swept across my startled thought's abyss!

I moaned. My body crumbled into dust.

And then my soul fled Here--where all souls must.

THE IMAM'S PARABLE

Behold, the wind of the Desert rose, Khamsin, in a shroud of sand, And swept the Libyan waste, across To far Somali-land.

His voice was thick with the drouth of death And smote the earth as a burning breath, Or as a curse which Allah saith Unto a demon-band.

The caravan from the oasis Of palm-engirt Kurkur Shuddered and couched in shaken heaps, The horror to endure.

Its mighty Sheik, like a soul in h.e.l.l Who longs for the lute of Israfel, Longed for the trickle of Keneh's well, Imperishably pure!

Three days he longed, and the wind three days About him whirled the shroud.

Then did a shrill dawn bring the sun-- And a gaunt vulture-crowd.

A few bleak bones on the Desert still Lie for the Judgment Day to thrill Again into life--if Allah will: _Let not your heart be proud._

SONGS OF A SEA-FARER

I

Many are on the sea to-day With all sails set.

The tide rolls in a restive gray, The wind blows wet.

The gull is weary of his wings, And I am weary of all things.