Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. THE MORTAL LOVER, by EDWARD CARPENTER Poet's Biography First Line: This is the little mortal lover in whose heart the low scorching flame Last Line: Eyes for a glimmer of light, but there is none. Subject(s): Hearts; Love; Mortality | ||||||||
THIS is the little mortal lover in whose heart the low scorching flame of rejected love burns night and day, withering all his life. In vain the great mountains and the sea, in vain the sun in heaven, in vain all faces offer themselves; There is no rest: only death and annihilation for every thing that is born; Only a corpse swinging up-river with the tide among the mud-banks, and swinging down again with the ebb; And the tide ebbing and flowing aimlessly for ever in a land where all are dead. He lies awake all night and strains his eyes for a glimmer of light, but there is none; Every pursuit, every hope, all of life, is a mockeryhe has been gulled into existence. We have been brought here (he says), a mass of sensitive capacities, to behold a possible satisfactionthen to be trampled underfoot like worms, without redemption, never again to know each other or ourselves. The heart aches and burns in slow torture, the sounds of daily life are a mockery, the pursuits of men are like the laughter of maniacs playing on the brink of a precipice. Millions and millions approach the edgea vast body always moving on from behind; The gulf is measureless in depth, but the young and those who are in the rear know not of itthey only feel the vast onward movement, and with loud chants and rollicking songs march gaily confidently on; Then suddenly those who are older and nearing the edge behold the horrible and naked truththey see the avalanche of human beings for ever going over into the abyss; With shouts and cries of warning they turn upon those that are behind: but it is useless, they too are pushed on relentlessly; Behind is a babel of sounds, cries of Forward, Progress, God, Immortality, and the like; around are shrieks and despairing threats, curses and plaintive unheeded warnings; before is the abyss of oblivion, Into which countless generations before have gone, and we must go; And this is the hell of existence. He lies awake all night with pain gnawing at his heart, and strains his eyes for a glimmer of light, but there is none. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WISE MEN IN THEIR BAD HOURS by ROBINSON JEFFERS READING ALOUD TO MY FATHER by JANE KENYON AS A MOULD FOR SOME FAIR FORM by EDWARD CARPENTER |
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