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Page 1 of 11910 · PDF PAGE 11
ROSA DECIDUA 9 Of life that spring in me are fed Not even on the mire of her decay. They spring from other roots. Now I am cleansed of her, I am so to say A man part paralysed. One limb is dead In feeling as in motion. This remains To ask : Will all catch death—how soon ? This head Excites its miserable brains To think the word it knows by intellect To be the right word—pity ! Then reflect : “ Pitiful ! Pitiful ! most pitiful ! The pity of it ! Think of the love past, Blossoms too beautiful ! Think of the hardships conquered comrade-wise ! Thin…
1910 · PDF PAGE 4
…Rose !—Rose !— Even as lover should call to lover ; There is no quickening, No flood, no fount that flows ; No water wells from the dead spring. My thoughts come singly, dry, contemptuous, Too cold for hate : all I can say is that they come From some dead sphere without me ; Singly they come, beats of a senseless drum Jarred by a fool, harsh, unharmonious. There is no sense within me or about me ; Yet each thought is most surely known For a catastrophe. No climax of a well-wrought tragedy ! Single and sterile. I am here for naught. I have no me…
1910 · PDF PAGE 9
… tied to. This is I Just as God in His Nature, wholly Involved therein, its tune, its motive, its quintessence. There were no meaning in Spring’s aspen spell, Where man’s sole treasury, the sky, Made bankrupt of His presence. Only, this God is a black fiend ; Of blood, the babe’s drink, weaned And fattened on—what liquor and meat ? Unnameable By all the giant horrors that haunt hell !