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First Line: When the clouds' swollen bosoms echo back the shouts of the many and strong
Last Line: Get him up and be gone as one shaped awry; he disturbs the order here.
Variant Title(s): De Profundis 2
Subject(s): Bible; Religion; Theology


Considerabam ad dexteram, et videbam; et non erat qui cognosceret
me.... non est qui requirat animam meam.' - Ps. CXLI

WHEN the clouds' swoln bosoms echo back the shouts of the
many and strong
That things are all as they best may be, save a few to be
right ere long,
And my eyes have not the vision in them to discern what to
these is so clear,
The blot seems straightway in me alone; one better he were not here.

The stout upstanders say, All's well with us: ruers have
nought to rue!
And what the potent say so oft, can it fail to be somewhat true?
Breezily go they, breezily come; their dust smokes around
their career,
Till I think I am one born out of due time, who has no calling here.

Their dawns bring lusty joys, it seems; their evenings all
that is sweet;
Our times are blessed times, they cry: Life shapes it as
is most meet,
And nothing is much the matter; there are many smiles to a tear;
Then what is the matter is I, I say. Why should such an
one be here? ...

Let him in whose ears the low-voiced Best is killed by the
clash of the First,
Who holds that if way to the Better there be, it exacts a
full look at the Worst,
Who feels that delight is a delicate growth cramped by
crookedness, custom, and fear,
Get him up and be gone as one shaped awry; he disturbs the order here.






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