Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, POSSESSIONS, by JAMES E. RICHARDSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

POSSESSIONS, by                    
First Line: The sand-path dies in marshlands, vast and gray
Last Line: And hold my place awhile, -- what else is there?
Subject(s): Property; Possessions


The sand-path dies in marshlands, vast and gray;
Below the midday moon
The grassy inlets wander; clear away
Lie breaking surf, bare beach and snowy dune.

Not clear and yet distinct, I note the bulks
Where habitations dwell
Along the sand-spits like forgotten hulks,
Each light-house, bungalow, and shut hotel.

Here lies a world most months inhabited;
Yet far, mid-range and near,
It might be some vast pleasance of the dead;
No figure moves within the sunlight clear.

Only the gray grass waves; in some black stream's
Unwrinkled, smooth, still flow,
I fancy, times, a winter fin still gleams;
Fancy, perhaps, nor do I care to know.

Like Crusoe, none oppose my right; the bay
And marsh and sky and sea
Are my possessions, -- this or any day, --
Despite all laws and past men's equity.

With not six feet of earth to claim as mine
Whereon to die, -- or dance, --
Earth, sea and sky in one fixed realm combine
To yield, this hour, one "blithe inheritance."

I take the selfsame food as other men,
I breathe the selfsame air;
I can match minds, and lose, and win again,
And hold my place awhile, -- what else is there?





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