THE DESERTS GROW: WOE HIM WHO DOTH THEM HIDE!
—Ha!Solemnly!In effect solemnly!A worthy beginning!Afric manner, solemnly!Of a lion worthy,Or perhaps of a virtuous howl-monkey——But it’s naught to you,Ye friendly damsels dearly loved,At whose own feet to me,The first occasion,To a European under palm-trees,A seat is now granted. Selah.
Wonderful, truly!Here do I sit now,The desert nigh, and yet I amSo far still from the desert,Even in naught yet deserted:That is, I’m swallowed downBy this the smallest oasis—:—It opened up just yawning,Its loveliest mouth agape,Most sweet-odoured of all mouthlets:Then fell I right in,Right down, right through—in ’mong you,Ye friendly damsels dearly loved! Selah.
Hail! hail! to that whale, fishlike,If it thus for its guest’s convenienceMade things nice!—(ye well know,Surely, my learned allusion?)Hail to its belly,If it had e’erA such loveliest oasis-bellyAs this is: though however I doubt about it,—With this come I out of Old-Europe,That doubt’th more eagerly than doth anyElderly married woman.May the Lord improve it!Amen!
Here do I sit now,In this the smallest oasis,Like a date indeed,Brown, quite sweet, gold-suppurating,For rounded mouth of maiden longing,But yet still more for youthful, maidlike,Ice-cold and snow-white and incisoryFront teeth: and for such assuredly,Pine the hearts all of ardent date-fruits. Selah.
To the there-named south-fruits now,Similar, all-too-similar,Do I lie here; by littleFlying insectsRound-sniffled and round-played,And also by yet littler,Foolisher, and peccablerWishes and phantasies,—Environed by you,Ye silent, presentientestMaiden-kittens,Dudu and Suleika,—ROUNDSPHINXED, that into one wordI may crowd much feeling:(Forgive me, O God,All such speech-sinning!)—Sit I here the best of air sniffling,Paradisal air, truly,Bright and buoyant air, golden-mottled,As goodly air as everFrom lunar orb downfell—Be it by hazard,Or supervened it by arrogancy?As the ancient poets relate it.But doubter, I’m now calling itIn question: with this do I come indeedOut of Europe,That doubt’th more eagerly than doth anyElderly married woman.May the Lord improve it!Amen.
This the finest air drinking,With nostrils out-swelled like goblets,Lacking future, lacking remembrancesThus do I sit here, yeFriendly damsels dearly loved,And look at the palm-tree there,How it, to a dance-girl, like,Doth bow and bend and on its haunches bob,—One doth it too, when one view’th it long!—To a dance-girl like, who as it seem’th to me,Too long, and dangerously persistent,Always, always, just on SINGLE leg hath stood?—Then forgot she thereby, as it seem’th to me,The OTHER leg?For vainly I, at least,Did search for the amissingFellow-jewel—Namely, the other leg—In the sanctified precincts,Nigh her very dearest, very tenderest,Flapping and fluttering and flickering skirting.Yea, if ye should, ye beauteous friendly ones,Quite take my word:She hath, alas! LOST it!Hu! Hu! Hu! Hu! Hu!It is away!For ever away!The other leg!Oh, pity for that loveliest other leg!Where may it now tarry, all-forsaken weeping?The lonesomest leg?In fear perhaps before aFurious, yellow, blond and curledLeonine monster? Or perhaps evenGnawed away, nibbled badly—Most wretched, woeful! woeful! nibbled badly! Selah.
Oh, weep ye not,Gentle spirits!Weep ye not, yeDate-fruit spirits! Milk-bosoms!Ye sweetwood-heartPurselets!Weep ye no more,Pallid Dudu!Be a man, Suleika! Bold! Bold!—Or else should there perhapsSomething strengthening, heart-strengthening,Here most proper be?Some inspiring text?Some solemn exhortation?—Ha! Up now! honour!Moral honour! European honour!Blow again, continue,Bellows-box of virtue!Ha!Once more thy roaring,Thy moral roaring!As a virtuous lionNigh the daughters of deserts roaring!—For virtue’s out-howl,Ye very dearest maidens,Is more than everyEuropean fervour, European hot-hunger!And now do I stand here,As European,I can’t be different, God’s help to me!Amen!
THE DESERTS GROW: WOE HIM WHO DOTH THEM HIDE!