Remnants of an Imperfect System

Oh, Life, I have taken you for my Lover,
I rent your veils and I found you fair;
If a fault or failing my eyes discover,
I will not see it; it is not there.

I know, if I knew, I should hold you dearer,
Should understand, if I understood,
For I worship more, as you'd draw me nearer,
Your reckless Evil, your perfect Good.

In the Jungle gloom, we have watched and waited,
For stealthy Panthers, that prowl by night,
At the end of some weary march, belated,
We heard strange tales by the camp-fire light.

We have lain on the starlit sands, untented,
While low-hung planets rose white and fair,
And in moonlit gardens, silver and scented,
Oh, Life, my lover, how sweet you were!

Forbidden and barbarous rites were shown us,
In rock-hewn Temples and jungle caves,
And the smoke-wreathed home of the dead has known us,--
The burning-ghat by the Ganges waves.

Ah, the long, lone ride through the starlit hours,
The long, lone watch on the starlit sea,
And the flame and flush of the morning flowers
When Life, my Lover, was kind to me

Betimes we were out on the sea together;
The vessel raced down the great green slope
Of mountainous waves, in desperate weather:
The hearts of men were adrift from hope,

As over the deck, in exultant fashion
The violent water crashed and fell,
I knew, through the joy of your reckless passion,
Agonized fear of the last farewell.

But I follow you always, unresisting,
To lowest depth; to uttermost brink,
From a thirst like mine there is no desisting
Though given poison for wine to drink.

You may do your utmost, you will not shake me,
Your faith may falter; my faith is true.
Oh, Life, you may shatter and rend and break me,
All Pain is Pleasure, that springs from you!

In the height and heat of your wildest passion,
You had your uttermost will of me,
And when have I asked for the least compassion?
A lover loved is a lover free!

Though, with never a word of farewell spoken
In lonely wilds of some Desert place,
You have flung me from you, adrift and broken
To wait the child of your last embrace.

And never my faith nor my fervour faltered,
Until you turned to my lips again,
When, my eager longing for you unaltered
Your first kiss cancelled my months of pain.

Ah, Life, you may torture my soul, betray me,
The right is yours, as Lover and Lord.
And when in the climax of all, you slay me,
My lips in dying will seek your sword.

-Laurence Hope

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