@3Memento mori Written at the Fall of France@1 The kingdoms fall in sequence, like the waves on the shore. All save divine and desperate hopes go down, they are no more: Solitary is our place, the castle in the sea. And I muse on those I have loved, and on those who have loved me. I gather up my loves, and keep them all warm, While above our heads blows the bitter storm: The blessed natural loves, of life-supporting flame, And those whose name is Wonder, which have no other name. The skull is in my hand, the minute cup of bone, And I remember her, the tame, the loving one, Who came in at the window, and seemed to have a mind More towards sorrowful man than to those of her own kind. She came for a long time, but at length she grew old; And on her death-day she came, so feeble and so bold; And all day, as if knowing what the day would bring, She waited by the window, with her head beneath her wing. And I will keep the skull, for in the hollow here Lodged the minute brain that had outgrown a fear; Transcended an old terror, and found a new love, And entered a strange life, a world it was not of. Even so, dread God! even so, my Lord! The fire is at my feet, and at my breast the sword, And I must gather up my soul, and clap my wings, and flee Into the heart of terror, to find myself in Thee. |