He died at his fingers first, and his toes; He said, "They are numb, they are numb!" But his bitter old heart and bitter old brain Beat on like a lashed tom-tom. His bitter old heart beat slanderously, His bitter old brain beat mad: Death reached as far as his ankle and knee -- But he swore that the good are bad. Death reached as far as his knee and his thigh -- But he swore that the true are false: He lived in a hell yet feared a Hell With a fear no fury halts. Death reached as far as his breast and throat, But his tongue clapped on with might. He hated all he had loved, and praised All whom he had hated -- in spite. Death reached as far as his throat and lips, That scurrile passions scored: For a sneer at others' ugliness Was a virtue he adored. Death reached to his eyes -- but his last look Was a lunge at the universe. His tongue sagged, and his heart stopped, For better or for worse. "There isn't a God," he often swore -- Which wouldn't have been so evil Had his godlessness not quite convinced The rest of us there is a Devil. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN LOVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RHYTHM by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE DESIRE OF NATIONS by EDWIN MARKHAM ANOTHER DARK LADY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON INFERENTIAL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |