The Book of Jade

the heights.

Liebes-Tod

I

Thy splendour-lighted face before mine eyes
Shines like a flaming sunset evermore;
Thee only I behold on the earth’s floor,
Thee only I behold within the skies;

Thy coming on is like a conqueror,
Before thy footsteps the world’s glory dies,
Within mine ears thy voice doth ever rise
Like a loud ocean beating on the shore.

Thou art made kindred with eternity,
Daughter of glory, daughter of consolations;
Thy face is set above the constellations;

Of Death! O love! be I made one with thee,
That on thy holy lips and in thy love
The world may perish and the light thereof!

II

Lo, now my life is gone unto eclipse
Upon thy perilous bosom; lo, I die,
Faint with the utter whole of exstasy,
With unassuaged lips against thy lips,

That can give no more joy; lo, at the place
Of utter joy, lo, at joy’s far-off throne,
Which none shall reach, with eyes now weary grown,
I lie slain at its utmost golden base.

Yea, we have call’d the white stars to behold
Our pale and fainting faces sick with joy;
O regal lips that shall death’s sting destroy,

I have suck’d bare life’s cup upon thy breath!
Kiss me to death! Lo, now our lips are cold,
Wilt thou not bring new joy, O Death, O Death?

Evening Song

Lo, all the passionate pale evening
I lay between the breasts of my beloved,
Among the lilies, in the lily garden.
The sky was pale, and all the sunset faded,
And all the stars I saw not in the heaven,
Because the glory of her face above me
I saw alone, wrapt in a dream of slumber;
And lo, she was more fair than all the lilies,
Among the lilies, in the lily garden.
And all her hair was golden chains to bind me,
And all her mouth was crimson fire to burn me,
And all the world became as wind before me,
But as the wind before her face that passes,
Among the lilies, in the lily garden.
And lo, her face was fairer than the stars are,
And lo, her breasts were whiter than the moon is,
Whiter than the moon, and tipp’d with crimson coral.
And low she bow’d her body, low before me,
And gave me of her joy unto fulfilling:
She bow’d her head whereto the stars do homage,
Before whose face the years wax dim and fading,
Before whose eyes the ages pass and vanish;
Bow’d her low down before me like a lily,
Among the lilies, in the lily garden.
And now at last I care not if the morning
Come at all, or the pale stars have setting,
Nay I care not if the whole world perish,
Perish and die, or if the white stars falter,
Nay I care not if the night forever
Hold me by her, and all things have ceasing;
Yea, because her lips are more than roses,
Yea, because her breasts are more than Heaven,
Yea, because her face is more than God is,
Among the lilies, in the lily garden.

Song of the Stars in Praise of Her

O starry light of the dim universe!
The night adoreth thee, the planets high
That reign far off within the desert sky
Praise thee as with the sound of dulcimers,
And all the temples of the night rehearse
Thy solemn glory everlastingly!

O thou for whom the moon’s pale-lighted star
And all the planets and the milky gleam,
But as a little of thy praising seem,
And the great lights that swim through heaven afar
But the reflection of thy glory are;
Thou only art; these are but shine and dream;

Thou art that light that doth the stars illume,
Thou art the glimmer of the moon divine;
All these are but the garment that is thine;
Thou art the wonder and the glow, the bloom,
Thou art the lonely lamp in night’s great gloom,
Thou art the skyey light, the starry shine.

Starlight is but the glory of thy face,
The shimmer of the silver planets pale
Is but the dim effulgence of thy veil;
And the great passing of the nights and days
Is all but as the perfume of thy praise.
O Holy, Holy, Holy, hail, O hail!

Aubade

The lady awoke before the cold gray dawn,
And had no joy thereof;
—What joy is mine of all the joy of love,
When love is gone?

Lo, all the air is strange unto mine eyes,
Lo, all the stars are dead;
Only the moon appeareth overhead
As one that dies.

Lo, all the garden lieth desolate,
And very strange to see,
Wherein, the roses and the grass for me
Blossom’d of late.

O rose-garden wherein my roses grew,
O odorous dim ways,
Why are ye strange to me as perish’d days,
And cold with dew?

Through the wide window creeps the cold sweet air,
Faint with sweet rose-perfume,
It stealeth o’er my body in the gloom,
And o’er my hair.

Surely I have drunk full of love’s delight,
But now my lips are cold,
While the pale day in silence doth behold
The dying night.

Remember

Remember, ye whom the skies delight,
Whose faces flame with the falling sun,
That after sunset cometh the night,
That sorrow followeth all delight,
When love, and lover, and lov’d are one.

O ye whose days are as sands that run,
One house there is unknown of delight,
One garden is there belov’d of none,
One place there is unseen of the sun,
Remember, ye whom the skies delight.

Song

She hath liv’d the life of a rose,
She that was fair,
Blown on by the summer air,
Grown tall in a golden close.

An ending is set to delight;
Now thou art as grass,
As the leaves, as the blossoms that pass,
Made pale at the touch of the night.

Song

Cometh a day and a night,
When the lamps of life burn dim,
When peace is secur’d for delight,
And poppies for the red-rose flower;
When the lamps of life burn dim,
Cometh a day and a night,
A day and a night and an hour.

Cometh the end of the years,
When the cheeks have the lilies’ bloom,
When slumber is given for tears,
And the breasts to the worm belong;
When the cheeks have the lilies’ bloom,
Cometh the end of the years,
As silence after the song.

Cometh a day and a night
For him to whom all is thrown,
Whose