I cried out, was
answered
by silence.
American Poetry - 1922
.
But to-morrow, perhaps. . . . I will wait and endure till
to-morrow! . . . "
Or again: "It is dark. The decision is made. I am vanquished
By terror of life. The walls mount slowly about me
In coldness. I had not the courage. I was forsaken.
I cried out, was answered by silence. . . . Tetelestai! . . . "
V
Hear how it babbles! --Blow the dust out of your hand,
With its voices and visions, tread on it, forget it, turn homeward
With dreams in your brain. . . . This, then, is the humble, the
nameless,--
The lover, the husband and father, the struggler with shadows,
The one who went down under shoutings of chaos! The weakling
Who cried his "forsaken! " like Christ on the darkening hilltop!
But to-morrow, perhaps. . . . I will wait and endure till
to-morrow! . . . "
Or again: "It is dark. The decision is made. I am vanquished
By terror of life. The walls mount slowly about me
In coldness. I had not the courage. I was forsaken.
I cried out, was answered by silence. . . . Tetelestai! . . . "
V
Hear how it babbles! --Blow the dust out of your hand,
With its voices and visions, tread on it, forget it, turn homeward
With dreams in your brain. . . . This, then, is the humble, the
nameless,--
The lover, the husband and father, the struggler with shadows,
The one who went down under shoutings of chaos! The weakling
Who cried his "forsaken! " like Christ on the darkening hilltop!
