Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THIS QUIET DUST, by JOHN HALL WHEELOCK


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THIS QUIET DUST, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Here in my curving hands I cup
Last Line: Between two vigils fallen asleep.
Subject(s): Mortality


Here in my curving hands I cup
This quiet dust; I lift it up.

Here is the mother of all thought;
Of this the shining heavens are wrought,
The laughing lips, the feet that rove,
The face, the body, that you love:
Mere dust, no more, yet nothing less,
And this has suffered consciousness,
Passion, and terror, this again
Shall suffer passion, death, and pain.

For, as all flesh must die, so all,
Now dust, shall live. 'T is natural;
Yet hardly do I understand --
Here in the hollow of my hand
A bit of God Himself I keep,
Between two vigils fallen asleep.





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