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3 matching pages
Page 1 of 11910 · PDF PAGE 7
… my past purifying pain, Turning all life to a thing fouler than Aught yet imaginable to man ! Who asks me for my tears ? She flings the body of my sweet dead child Into my face with hell’s own epitaph, Profanes that shrine Of infinite love and infinite loss, My empty shrine, the one shrine undefiled, My one close-claspèd cross— And hers as much as mine ! Profanes it with a hideous laugh And a lie flung with a curse ; and I must hear, And must not stamp on the snake, because, forsooth This was my love, my peace, my faith, my truth, The rosebud …
1910 · PDF PAGE 3
…ed and torn and trampled And utterly corrupt is she That was the queen-flower unexampled In gardens goodlier than Arcady. O Thou ! whose body was my lyre, whose soul Lay on my mouth like a live coal ! This time thou hearest not my song ; thine ears Are stopped with worse than death ; And all this wasted breath Of mine—those songs of six most memorable years Of ecstasy and agony—may not attain To charm thy being into love again. . . .
1910 · PDF PAGE 4
…this damned present. The past years abort And this is found. Foul waters drench My earth. All’s filth. With what cold eye one scans This body that was—so long since—two years ! I wrench