In a hard, burned land of ash, stripped of leaves, As I groaned one day to acres of charred trees, Wandering aimlessly, broken by my thoughts, Which slowly sharpened daggers at my heart, I saw descending over me, at noon, A black cloud, storm-wide, carrying a troop Of vicious demons, stunted like old dwarves, Who, cruelly curious, pried into my wounds. Proudly and coldly they examined me, And, like pedestrians staring at a madman, I heard them laugh and whisper savagely. They made lewd signs and winked disdainfully: "Let us study well this caricature of man, This shadow Hamlet, posturing as he moans, Looking so undecided, letting the wind shake His locks. Isn't it funny to see this rake, This tramp, this clown, this laid-off mountebank, Pretend, because he plays his role with wit, To interest eagles, flowers, brooks, and crickets In his stale recitals of imagined pain And tries beguiling even us with shows, Tricks that we invented long ago?" I would have turned my sovereign head aside (My pride could dominate, as from a mountaintop, That cloud of demons and their disturbing cries) Had I not seen among that obscene troop-Ah, crime that strangely did not stagger the sun!-The empress of my heart, with crystal eyes, Who, laughing with them, mocked my black distress And pitched them, now and then, a lewd caress. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYMN: FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY: 2 by REGINALD HEBER THE DEFINITION OF LOVE by ANDREW MARVELL FOR THE BED AT KELMSCOTT by WILLIAM MORRIS (1834-1896) A PARTING SONG by WILLIAM AITKEN EPIGRAM by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |