Now on the great stage a silence falls. In the long shudder toward collapse and birth, There enters, singing, the muffled shape of a future. He has no face; his hands are bloody; He is for himself; he is not to please you. @3You have stolen my labor You have stolen my name You have stolen my mystery You have stolen the moon@1 The coldness of song goes on in his barbarous tongue. The hours condense like snow. The marble weight Of his dream, like a heavy cloud, leans on your glass houses. Expropriated of time, he begins himself in @3his@1 name; He stamps his null on your day; the future collapses toward him: @3I do not want your clocks I do not want your God I do not want your statues I do not want your love@1 Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CLOTHES by JEAN STARR UNTERMEYER THE CEMETERY BY THE SEA by PAUL VALERY AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL by KATHARINE LEE BATES EACH IN HIS OWN TONGUE by WILLIAM HERBERT CARRUTH THE YARN OF THE 'NANCY BELL' by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 70. THE HILL-SUMMIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI IDYLLS OF THE KING: THE PASSING OF ARTHUR by ALFRED TENNYSON |