His chin cut water Dry as wind, As he bathed the body That had sinned -- The body that sinned, That had stooped to sup On flesh, and drink From a crimson cup. He bathed his body; But the stain Which he washed away Returned again. White anger whirled In his avid mind At the sins he never Could leave behind. He strove to swim In a frenzied fear, But made no sound For the ear to hear. He strove to swim; But his shoulders bare Cut into water As thin as air. He paused in terror And raised his head, Hearing the moan Of a million dead: The moan that rises When hope is gone. And he knew the river Was Acheron. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SOCIOLOGY OF TOYOTAS AND JADE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by HAYDEN CARRUTH MAGDALEN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO GALLANT FRANCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER THE BOOK OF STONES AND LILIES by AMY LOWELL CITIES OF THE PLAIN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |