Liveliest effigy of the human race
Liveliest effigy of the human race,
Loveliest in form, in spirit like a sword,
Boyhood! I weep to see you so disgraced,
From stream’s and meadow’s playground snatched away
To die on commerce’ bloody altar-stone.
I weep for you alone; none cares beside.
What sort of love is that that loves you best
When you are least yourself? I love in you
The very wantonness which others hate.
I love the wilful animal in you;
Your wayward wickedness is my delight.
I love you as I love the squirrel wild,
The wild wood-dove the gruesome sportsman murders,
The nightingale they slay to eat his tongue,
The playful seal, whose coat their females filch.
Youth, who of human kind can sing most sweet,
You dare not lift your voice for fear of scorn,
Because you know not friends from enemies.
There is an art in disobedience.
Rescue yourself, then save your sister dear,
Weaker than you, that ghouls have quite enslaved.
Ye ghouls, who worship mediocrity,
You clothe the beauteous flesh in ugliness,
Yourselves all paunch and rump from evil living
(Call it good living, wink, and all agree)
Turn you God’s image to indecency?
Delicious form of youth I love your view,
Your feel, your sound, your scent, your taste, your all—
Your head, with crumpled hair, smooth cheeks and chin,
Soft lips and ears and nostrils, glowing eyes,
Lashes and eyebrows, throat and nape of neck,
Shoulders and armpits savoury with sweat,
Broad breasts with nipples, arms and wrists and hands,
Belly and navel, back and shoulder blades,
Caressing shapely buttocks, groins and hips,
Genitals dangling in a cluster down,
Thick thighs and knees, shins, ankles, calves and feet.
I speak to woman.—Here behold your king!
Lovelier than you, let flattering fools deny!
Mark his high glance, the swords of flickering light
That play about his shapely eager brow!
Whatever you have he has fuller store
Of good and bad, in flesh and spirit both.
In kind the same you are, in measure less—
Save in your difference . Glorious mother, how
My heart melts in your heart of ruddy flame!
The love of man and youth is as two fires,
Of mother and son two strong and gentle streams,
The love of man and maid a sluggish rill.
O! my mind swims; all images resolve
In dancing specks. Athwart a motley crew
Surges and glimmers; now a goodly youth,
Naked, triumphant, spurning with his foot
A heap of lumber, shattered instruments,
Books, broken statutes, tumbled palaces;
And women, babes and elder men
Bowing before him and all crying out,
“Worthiest full life who fullest life enjoys!”
And he made answer on high, “ Is any here
Of fuller being than I? I’ll bow to him!”
