(Carrion Comfort)

  • (Carrion Comfort)

  • Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee;
  • Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man
  • In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can;
  • Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
  • But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me
  • Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan
  • With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan,
  • O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee?
  • Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear.
  • Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod,
  • Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer.
  • Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród
  • Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year
  • Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God.
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