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If ever I am old； and all alone；
I shall have killed one grief； at any rate；
For then； thank God； I shall not have to wait
Much longer for the sheaves that I have sown。
The devil only knows what I have done；
But here I am； and here are six or eight
Good friends； who most ingenuously prate
About my songs to such and such a one。
But everything is all askew to…night；
As if the time were come； or almost come；
For their untenanted mirage of me
To lose itself and crumble out of sight；
Like a tall ship that floats above the foam
A little while； and then breaks utterly。
Sonnet
The master and the slave go hand in hand；
Though touch be lost。 The poet is a slave；
And there be kings do sorrowfully crave
The joyance that a scullion may command。
But； ah； the sonnet…slave must understand
The mission of his bondage； or the grave
May clasp his bones； or ever he shall save
The perfect word that is the poet's wand！
The sonnet is a crown； whereof the rhymes
Are for Thought's purest gold the jewel…stones；
But shapes and echoes that are never done
Will haunt the workshop； as regret sometimes
Will bring with human yearning to sad thrones
The crash of battles that are never won。
Verlaine
Why do you dig like long…clawed scavengers
To touch the covered corpse of him that fled
The uplands for the fens； and rioted
Like a sick satyr with doom's worshippers？
Come！ let the grass grow there； and leave his verse
To tell the story of the life he led。
Let the man go： let the dead flesh be dead；
And let the worms be its biographers。
Song sloughs away the sin to find redress
In art's complete remembrance： nothing clings
For long but laurel to the stricken brow
That felt the Muse's finger； nothing less
Than hell's fulfilment of the end of things
Can blot the star that shines on Paris now。
Sonnet
When we can all so excellently give
The measure of love's wisdom with a blow；
Why can we not in turn receive it so；
And end this murmur for the life we live？
And when we do so frantically strive
To win strange faith； why do we shun to know
That in love's elemental over…glow
God's wholeness gleams with light superlative？
Oh； brother men； if you have eyes at all；
Look at a branch； a bird； a child； a rose；
Or anything God ever made that grows；
Nor let the smallest vision of it slip；
Till you can read； as on Belshazzar's wall；
The glory of eternal partnership！
Supremacy
There is a drear and lonely tract of hell
From all the common gloom removed afar：
A flat； sad land it is； where shadows are；
Whose lorn estate my verse may never tell。
I walked among them and I knew them well：
Men I had slandered on life's little star
For churls and sluggards； and I knew the scar
Upon their brows of woe ineffable。
But as I went majestic on my way；
Into the dark they vanished； one by one；
Till； with a shaft of God's eternal day；
The dream of all my glory was undone；
And； with a fool's importunate dismay；
I heard the dead men singing in the sun。
The Night Before
Look you； Dominie； look you； and listen！
Look in my face； first； search every line there；
Mark every feature； chin； lip； and forehead！
Look in my eyes； and tell me the lesson
You read there； measure my nose； and tell me
Where I am wanting！ A man's nose； Dominie；
Is often the cast of his inward spirit；
So mark mine well。 But why do you smile so？
Pity； or what？ Is it written all over；
This face of mine； with a brute's confession？
Nothing but sin there？ nothing but hell…scars？
Or is it because there is something better
A glimmer of good； maybe or a shadow
Of something that's followed me down from childhood
Followed me all these years and kept me；
Spite of my slips and sins and follies；
Spite of my last red sin； my murder；
Just out of hell？ Yes？ something of that kind？
And you smile for that？ You're a good man； Dominie；
The one good man in the world who knows me；
My one good friend in a world that mocks me；
Here in this hard stone cage。 But I leave it
To…morrow。 To…morrow！ My God！ am I crying？
Are these things tears？ Tears！ What！ am I frightened？
I； who swore I should go to the scaffold
With big strong steps； and No more。 I thank you；
But no I am all right now！ No！ listen！
I am here to be hanged； to be hanged to…morrow
At six o'clock； when the sun is rising。
And why am I here？ Not a soul can tell you
But this poor shivering thing before you；
This fluttering wreck of the man God made him；
For God knows what wild reason。 Hear me；
And learn from my lips the truth of my story。
There's nothing strange in what I shall tell you；
Nothing mysterious； nothing unearthly；
But damnably human； and you shall hear it。
Not one of those little black lawyers had guessed it；
The judge； with his big bald head； never knew it；
And the jury （God rest their poor souls！） never dreamed it。
Once there were three in the world who could tell it；
Now there are two。 There'll be two to…morrow；
You； my friend； and But there's the story：
When I was a boy the world was heaven。
I never knew then that the men and the women
Who petted and called me a brave big fellow
Were ever less happy than I； but wisdom
Which comes with the years； you know soon showed me
The secret of all my glittering childhood；
The broken key to the fairies' castle
That held my life in the fresh； glad season
When I was the king of the earth。 Then slowly
And yet so swiftly！ there came the knowledge
That the marvellous life I had lived was my life；
That the glorious world I had loved was my world；
And that every man； and every woman；
And every child was a different being；
Wrought with a different heat； and fired
With passions born of a single spirit；
That the pleasure I felt was not their pleasure；
Nor my sorrow a kind of nameless pity
For something； I knew not what their sorrow。
And thus was I taught my first hard lesson；
The lesson we suffer the most in learning：
That a happy man is a man forgetful
Of all the torturing ills around him。
When or where I first met the woman
I cherished and made my wife； no matter。
Enough to say that I found her and kept her
Here in my heart with as pure a devotion
As ever Christ felt for his brothers。 Forgive me
For naming His name in your patient presence；
But I feel my words； and the truth I utter
Is God's own truth。 I loved that woman；
Not for her face； but for something fairer；
Something diviner； I thought； than beauty：
I loved the spirit the human something
That seemed to chime with my own condition；
And make soul…music when we were together；
And we were never apart； from the moment
My eyes flashed into her eyes the message
That swept itself in a quivering answer
Back through my strange lost being。 My pulses
Leapt with an aching speed； and the measure
Of this great world grew small and smaller；
Till it seemed the sky and the land and the ocean
Closed at last in a mist all golden
Around us two。 And we stood for a season
Like gods outflung from chaos； dreaming
That we were the king and the queen of the fire
That reddened the clouds of love that held us
Blind to the new world soon to be ours
Ours to seize and sway。 The passion
Of that great love was a nameless passion；
Bright as the blaze of the sun at noonday；
Wild as the flames of hell； but； mark you；
Never a whit less pure for its fervor。
The baseness in me （for I was human）
Burned like a worm； and perished； and nothing
Was left me then but a soul that mingled
Itself with hers； and swayed and shuddered
In fearful triumph。 When I consider
That helpless love and the cursed folly
That wrecked my life for the sake of a woman
Who broke with a laugh the chains of her marriage
（Whatever the word may mean）； I wonder
If all the woe was her sin； or whether
The chains themselves were enough to lead her
In love's despite to break them。 。 。 。 Sinners
And saints I say are rocked in the cradle；
But never are known till the will within them
Speaks in its own good time。 So I foster
Even to…night for the woman who wronged me；
Nothing of hate； nor of love； but a feeling
Of still regret； for the man But hear me；
And judge for yourself：
For a time the seasons
Changed and passed in a sweet succession
That seemed to me like an endless music：
Life was a rolling psalm； and the choirs
Of God were glad for our love。 I fancied
All this； and more than I dare to tell you
To…night； yes； more than I dare to remember；
And then well； the music stopped。 There are moments
In all men's lives when it stops； I fancy；
Or seems to stop； till it comes to cheer them
Again with a larger sound。 The curtain
Of l