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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=340978" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On - On - Poet</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I to the open road,<br>You to the hunchbacked street -<br>Which of us two<br>Shall the earlier rue<br>That day we chanced to meet?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I with a heart that's sound,<br>You with sick fancies of pain -<br>Which of us two<br>Would the earlier rue<br>If we chanced to meet again?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I jingle homely lore,<br>While you rhyme is with kiss -<br>Which of us two<br>Will the earlier rue<br>The love of the Hoylake Miss?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not I the first to go,<br>Nor I the first to deceive -<br>Which of us two<br>Shall the the earliest rue<br>Our garden of make-believe? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You were a Chinese god,<br>I an offering fair,<br>As we entered the<br>Garden of Allah,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To sing our holy prayer.<br>Entered with hearts bowed low,<br>Yet I heard a voice that cried:<br>For he is the god of the<br>Sacrifice,<br>You are the crucified.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was all make-believe,<br>A foolish game of play,<br>Our garden of Allah<br>A drawing-room,<br>Our Chinese god of clay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Strings of bruises for pearls,<br>Tears for forget-me-nots,<br>And a deadly pain<br>Of the sickening shame<br>Watching the fading spots.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As quickly they faded,<br>The heart of me faded as well,<br>Until nothing is left<br>Of my garden,<br>But a soul sunk to hell. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hail!<br>Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaire,<br>No more together we'll enter the<br>Enchanted garden of make-believe,<br>Nor my sad soul listen while thine deceive.<br>No more you'll be the God of Sacrifice,<br>Nor I the crucified.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, Garden of Allah -how bitter sweet<br>Thy fruit. Why breakest thou the heart?<br>Why spoilest thou the soul with notes<br>From thy golden lute?<br>Lo! our garden a common room<br>Our Chinese god burnt clay, and<br>The singing of verses a funeral hymn<br>That awakes with awakening day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas all such a meaningless play,<br>Poet prend ton lute -Je disparaitre.<br>Hail!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poet, take my hand -we'll walk<br>Still a little way.<br>I'll not desert thee at the close of day,<br>I, too, must pray.<br>A beggar asking alms of passers-by,<br>Does not refuse a drink to one who's dry<br>That once by him did lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poet, come close -before I leave for aye<br>Take thou my hand, we'll walk still<br>A little way. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One garment covered both to keep us warm,<br>What harmed the one, was't not the other's harm?<br>Close clasped, one single form.<br>Was it not meant of aye?<br>Poet, take thou my hand -we'll still<br>Walk a little way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Aleister+Crowley">Aleister Crowley</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=340978" data-title="On - On - Poet de Aleister Crowley" data-description="I to the open road,
You to the hunchbacked street -
Which of us two
Shall the earlier rue
That day we chanced to meet?


I with a heart that's sound,
You with sick fancies of pain -
Which of us two
Would the earlier rue
If we chanced to meet again..."></div>
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