The Mother’s Tragedy

( 104) NEPHTHYS ‘‘ There is no light, nor wisdom, nor knowledge in the grave, whither thou goest.”—-SOLOMON. FOOLISH and a cruel thing is said By the Most High that mocks man’s empty breast, As if the grave were mere eternal rest, Or merest resurrection of the dead. All petty wishes: at the fountain-head, A dead girl’s whisper—I have stooped and pressed My ear unto her heart—her soul confessed That none of life her joy relinquishéd. ““T died the moment when you tore away The bleeding veil of my virginity. The pain was sudden—and the joy was long. Persists that triumphs, keenly, utterly! Write, then, in thy mysterious book of song: ‘Death chisels marble where life moulded clay.’”