Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MEED OF SORROW, by GEORGE H. SOULE JR. First Line: Upon the nearer bank of that dark shore Last Line: She smiled a smile of utter tenderness. Subject(s): Grief; Yale University; Sorrow; Sadness | ||||||||
UPON the nearer bank of that dark shore, Where, still and full, Lethean waters pour Like greatening darkness and a deepening sleep That makes a sobbing child forget to weep, And lulls its beating eyelids, and compels Erasure of the sorrow, and foretells A sweet awakening by a morning breeze That scatters flickering sunshine through the trees, I saw a woman wander, all alone. Her long, straight robe with dullest whiteness shone Like to the blank, sad blindness of a wall Between us and our freedom; the light fall Of her brown hair, baffled in loveliness, Yearned for an evermore denied caress; And her smooth, twilight-pale, grief-sickened brow Shamed with its blessed breadth the fire that now And now anew glowed dully in her eyes; Consuming all the hopes of glad surprise Or Unsought joy. She would not now impart In one clear glance for her deep-moving heart Any half satisfaction in a love That gives itself to what it cannot move, But rather, shaken and bruised by blow on blow, Too frightened to be calm, too weak to know, She waited for an ending of her soul -- Never to come. Toward her Lethean goal Over that shadowy, old rough-heathered waste She stumbled with slow steps too tired to haste. Her pituful white fingers at her breast Clutched at her sorrows, as if yet her quest For something fine and beautiful and still Moved her in vain to grapple and to kill The longings torturing her. She hardly breathed, Else had her tense-held woe to weeping seethed, And smitten with sudden tears had found relief -- A thing that could not be. In pure, whole grief She reached that silent stream, and, bending low, She saw its blackness and desired it so That sorely trembling, she leaned o'er the brink And lifted one sweet handful. Ere the drink Had touched her patient lips, a strange regret Grew in her eyes, as if a moment yet She held some lonely, sweet pain to her heart Close as a child, afraid lest it depart. Then trembled joy o'er pain, as when the moon Swells wondrously above some distant dune, Creeps spirit-like across uncertain seas, And blazes splendor on the fantasies Of midnight tenor. Slowly she let fall The potion black that would have hidden all, And, in whole knowledge of her deep distress, She smiled a smile of utter tenderness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONOMA FIRE by JANE HIRSHFIELD AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARDS by JOHN HOLLANDER WHAT GREAT GRIEF HAS MADE THE EMPRESS MUTE by JUNE JORDAN CHAMBER MUSIC: 19 by JAMES JOYCE DIRGE AT THE END OF THE WOODS by LEONIE ADAMS THE HERMIT'S PRAYER by GEORGE H. SOULE JR. |
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