: The Path of Dreams Poems by Giltner Leigh Gordon - American poetry

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uth's fair-flowered fields with blighting blast-- Then to the gods our doubts and fears be cast! Enough of Sorrow! Joyance is our due. Gather the roses! Spurn th' envenomed rue. Fling to the waiting winds the pallid past. Steep thee in mellow moods and dear desires; Pluck Love's flame-hearted flower ere it dies; Cull nectared kisses sweet as morning's breath, Warm Chastity at Passion's purple fires; Nepenthe quaff--till drained the chalice lies. After ... the shrouded sleep, the dreamless dark of Death.

Euthumism

If in the spirit glows no spark divine; If soulless dust return to dust again; If, after life, but death and dark remain-- Then it were well to make the moment thine, Bacchante-steeping soul and sense in wine, In lotus-lulling languors, fond desires That heat the heart with fierce, unhallowed fires-- Till Pleasure, Circe-like, transform us into swine. But if some subtler spirit thrill our clay, Some God-like flame illume this fleeting dust-- Promethean fire snatched from the Olympian height-- Then must we choose the nobler, higher Way, Seeking the Beautiful, the Pure, the Just-- The ultimate crowned triumph of the Right!

Under the Leaves

The phalanxes of corn stand grim and serried, Dull gold the sodden sheaves, The violets that smiled with Spring are buried Under the leaves.

Along the land the Winter's doom is creeping All vainly Autumn grieves; And she who made my heart's sweet Spring is sleeping Under the leaves.

Carmen

Night in Seville, and the twinkle Of stars in the far azure set, The mandolin's torturing tinkle, The click of the castanet! Music and wine and low laughter, Love and a torment of tune-- Hate and a poignard thereafter, Under the yellow moon.

Here in the night I await her, Under the slumberous moon; Yearns my fierce spirit to mate her-- All my sick senses aswoon Beneath the wild sway of her dancing Passion and pride are at war;-- Thrall to her amorous glancing, Grandee and toreador.

Carmen Gitana, behold her! Bright passion-flower of the South; Soft Southern languors enfold her, Scarlet the bloom of her mouth; Passionate, sensuous, cruel, Raying warm laughter and light, A ruby--a scintillant jewel-- Set on the brow of the Night!

Ah, the wild rhythm of her dancing! Lithe with the jaguar's grace, Ah, the sweet fire of her glancing, The love-litten lure of her face! And ah, in my fierce arms to hold her This strange scarlet flower of the South. Close to my heart-beat to fold her Drinking the wine of her mouth!

Sweet, thou art weary with dancing, Sick of the music and light Praises and overbold glancing-- Steal with me into the night; Out of the riot of laughter, Out of the torment of tune-- Love and close kisses thereafter Under the sensuous moon!

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