The Kadisah of Haji Abdu El-Yezdi | Page 2

why haunt these ghosts,
whence do these spectral shadows spring?
What endless questions vex the thought,
of Whence and Whither, When and How??What fond and foolish strife to read
the Scripture writ on human brow;
As stand we percht on point of Time,
betwixt the two Eternities,?Whose awful secrets gathering round
with black profound oppress our eyes.
��This gloomy night, these grisly waves,
these winds and whirlpools loud and dread:?What reck they of our wretched plight
who Safety��s shore so lightly tread?��
Thus quoth the Bard of Love and Wine,*
whose dream of Heaven ne��er could rise?Beyond the brimming Kausar-cup
and Houris with the white-black eyes;
? Hafiz of Shiraz.
Ah me! my race of threescore years
is short, but long enough to pall?My sense with joyless joys as these,
with Love and Houris, Wine and all.
Another boasts he would divorce
old barren Reason from his bed,?And wed the Vine-maid in her stead;��
fools who believe a word he said!*
? Omar-i-Kayyam, the tent-maker poet of Persia.
And ����Dust thou art to dust returning.��
ne��er was spoke of human soul��?The Soofi cries, ��tis well for him
that hath such gift to ask its goal.
��And this is all, for this we��re born
to weep a little and to die!��?So sings the shallow bard whose life
still labours at the letter ��I.��
��Ear never heard, Eye never saw
the bliss of those who enter in?My heavenly kingdom,�� Isa said,
who wailed our sorrows and our sin:
Too much of words or yet too few!
What to thy Godhead easier than?One little glimpse of Paradise
to ope the eyes and ears of man?
��I am the Truth! I am the Truth!��
we hear the God-drunk gnostic cry?��The microcosm abides in ME;
Eternal Allah��s nought but I!��
Mans?r* was wise, but wiser they
who smote him with the hurl��d stones;?And, though his blood a witness bore,
no wisdom-might could mend his bones.
? A famous Mystic stoned for blasphemy.
��Eat, drink, and sport; the rest of life��s
not worth a fillip,�� quoth the King;?Methinks the saying saith too much:
the swine would say the selfsame thing!
Two-footed beasts that browse through life,
by Death to serve as soil design��d,?Bow prone to Earth whereof they be,
and there the proper pleasures find:
But you of finer, nobler, stuff,
ye, whom to Higher leads the High,?What binds your hearts in common bond
with creatures of the stall and sty?
��In certain hope of Life-to-come
I journey through this shifting scene��?The Zahid* snarls and saunters down
his Vale of Tears with confi��dent mien.
? The ��Philister�� of ��respectable�� belief.
Wiser than Amran��s Son* art thou,
who ken��st so well the world-to-be,?The Future when the Past is not,
the Present merest dreamery;
? Moses in the Koran.
What know��st thou, man, of Life? and yet,
forever twixt the womb, the grave,?Thou pratest of the Coming Life,
of Heav��n and Hell thou fain must rave.
The world is old and thou art young;
the world is large and thou art small;?Cease, atom of a moment��s span,
To hold thyself an All-in-All!
III.
Fie, fie! you visionary things,
ye motes that dance in sunny glow,?Who base and build Eternities
on briefest moment here below;
Who pass through Life liked cag��d birds,
the captives of a despot will;?Still wond��ring How and When and Why,
and Whence and Whither, wond��ring still;
Still wond��ring how the Marvel came
because two coupling mammals chose?To slake the thirst of fleshly love,
and thus the ��Immortal Being�� rose;
Wond��ring the Babe with staring eyes,
perforce compel��d from night to day,?Gript in the giant grasp of Life
like gale-born dust or wind-wrung spray;
Who comes imbecile to the world
��mid double danger, groans, and tears;?The toy, the sport, the waif and stray
of passions, error, wrath and fears;
Who knows not Whence he came nor Why,
who kens not Whither bound and When,?Yet such is Allah��s choicest gift,
the blessing dreamt by foolish men;
Who step by step perforce returns
to couthless youth, wan, white and cold,?Lisping again his broken words
till all the tale be fully told:
Wond��ring the Babe with quench��d orbs,
an oldster bow��d by burthening years,?How ��scaped the skiff an hundred storms;
how ��scaped the thread a thousand shears;
How coming to the Feast unbid,
he found the gorgeous table spread?With the fair-seeming Sodom-fruit,
with stones that bear the shape of bread:
How Life was nought but ray of sun
that clove the darkness thick and blind,?The ravings of the reckless storm,
the shrieking of the rav��ening wind;
How lovely visions ��guiled his sleep,
aye fading with the break of morn,?Till every sweet became a sour,
till every rose became a thorn;
Till dust and ashes met his eyes
wherever turned their saddened gaze;?The wrecks of joys and hopes and loves,
the rubbish of his wasted days;
How every high heroic Thought
that longed to breathe empyrean air,?Failed of its feathers, fell to earth,
and perisht of a sheer despair;
How, dower��d with heritage of brain,
whose might has split the solar ray,?His rest is grossest coarsest earth,
a crown of gold on brow of clay;
This House whose frame be flesh and bone,
mortar��d with blood and faced with skin,?The home of sickness, dolours, age;
unclean without, impure within:
Sans ray to cheer its inner gloom,
the chambers haunted by the Ghost,?Darkness his name, a cold dumb Shade
stronger than all the heav��nly host.
This tube, an enigmatic pipe,
whose end was laid before begun,?That lengthens, broadens, shrinks and