I am here, the other elsewhere, the silence seems to live: We are wretched ones, and Satan sifts us in his sieve. I suffer, the other suffers, and there is no traveled land Between her and me, from the other to me no word and no hand. Naught but the common and incommunicable night, The night where naught is done, and love's incredible affright. I feel a subtle wind, and my horror is released. Flee from the danger of death, from the jaws of the beast. Here once more the savor of death is between my teeth. The travail, and the vomit, and the turning beneath. I was alone in the wine-press, I trod the grape, accursed That night as I walked from wall to wall, while maniac laughter burst. He who has made the eyes, without eyes shall He behold me? He who has made the ears, without ears shall He be told me? I know that where sin abounds, superabounding is Your compassion pearled. I must pray, for it is the hour of the Sovereign of the world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INEVITABLY (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE CANDLE by KATHERINE MANSFIELD INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP by ROBERT BROWNING NIGHTFALL IN DORDRECHT by EUGENE FIELD HABEAS CORPUS by HELEN MARIA HUNT FISKE JACKSON CHRIST IN THE UNIVERSE by ALICE MEYNELL MADRIGAL: 109 by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI I DO NOT LOVE THEE by CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH SHERIDAN NORTON |