No More Learning

And the man stood with her.
As upon her head, so upon his,
Fell blow and blow,
And all people screaming, "Fool! "
He was a brave heart.


III

He was a brave heart.
Would you speak with him, friend?
Well, he is dead,
And there went your opportunity.
Let it be your grief
That he is dead
And your opportunity gone;
For, in that, you were a coward.



LXII

There was a man who lived a life of fire.
Even upon the fabric of time,
Where purple becomes orange
And orange purple,
This life glowed,
A dire red stain, indelible;
Yet when he was dead,
He saw that he had not lived.



LXIII

There was a great cathedral.
To solemn songs,
A white procession
Moved toward the altar.
The chief man there
Was erect, and bore himself proudly.
Yet some could see him cringe,
As in a place of danger,
Throwing frightened glances into the air,
A-start at threatening faces of the past.



LXIV

Friend, your white beard sweeps the ground,
Why do you stand, expectant?
Do you hope to see it
In one of your withered days?
With your old eyes
Do you hope to see
The triumphal march of Justice?
Do not wait, friend
Take your white beard
And your old eyes
To more tender lands.



LXV

Once, I knew a fine song,
--It is true, believe me,--
It was all of birds,
And I held them in a basket;
When I opened the wicket,
Heavens! They all flew away.
I cried, "Come back, little thoughts! "
But they only laughed.
They flew on
Until they were as sand
Thrown between me and the sky.



LXVI

If I should cast off this tattered coat,
And go free into the mighty sky;
If I should find nothing there
But a vast blue,
Echoless, ignorant,--
What then?



LXVII

God lay dead in Heaven;
Angels sang the hymn of the end;
Purple winds went moaning,
Their wings drip-dripping
With blood
That fell upon the earth.
It, groaning thing,
Turned black and sank.
Then from the far caverns
Of dead sins
Came monsters, livid with desire.
They fought,
Wrangled over the world,
A morsel.
But of all sadness this was sad,--
A woman's arms tried to shield
The head of a sleeping man
From the jaws of the final beast.



LXVIII

A spirit sped
Through spaces of night;
And as he sped, he called,
"God! God! "
He went through valleys
Of black death-slime,
Ever calling,
"God!