I FLED between the clanging gates and stood Alone amid the chestnut's bee-lulled sleep, Tasting the pangless quiet as a food, For I had suffered deep. It was too late to sing or laugh again. All, all was changed, and I had probed too far In nightlong meditations stabbed with pain, To know what pleasures are. Away I went among the wistful leaves Sick with the brooding pain of blossoming, Through by-ways where the brick-red spider weaves, Through lanes of whispering. Heavy with love of all forgetfulness Among the unknown flowers I knelt and prayed: 'Make me like these or just a little less.' That was the prayer I said. I lifted up dead flowers with all my hands, The unknown wild things, till their dying scent Spread like a white breath o'er the winterlands, And hid me as I went. So drift my feet where man has reaped in vain, Where sleep is dead, thought droops its wounded wings, A shipwreck on the sleepless sea of pain Among the shipwrecked things. But ever to those waves I bend mine eyes, Which Christ has crossed with lonely, lonely feet. And hear the uncomplaining waters rise With voices, oh, how sweet! Sweet, sweeter far than all the coreless joys Youth plucks amid the branches of the mind, Or fame that dies within its own sweet noise, Leaving no sweet behind. So may I pass forgotten and unknown O'er these unsleeping waters to the grave, And taste the lonely bliss of pain alone Crossing the last, long wave. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE NEW FORCES OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE LONG PARLIAMENT by JOHN MILTON THE NO-LONGER-MERRY ANCIENT MONARCH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE SUPPLIANTS: PRAYER FOR DELIVERANCE. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS SAN GABRIEL by LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN OPEN THY HEART by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 33. AL-HALIM by EDWIN ARNOLD THE GEATE A-VALLEN TO by WILLIAM BARNES THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 6. GIUSEPPE CAPONSACCHI by ROBERT BROWNING |