CAPSTAN
Of all the ages of man, this is the
remaining tithe. We are pretty much
left with nothing : the drop-leaf at the table
holds only the cat, 'that hoary cripple with
malicious eye,' as Browning put it. 'What
save to waylay with his eyes ensnare.'
-
See, or shut your eyes then - that Last
Judgment's fires are all what can cleanse this
place, and far between, and after all. We see
only distant clods as near : burnt earth and
Nature's fools, only, all, 'set my prisoners free.'
-
I have yet to find the strength, the fortitude, to
say 'shut your mouth; I do not wish the talking
any more. Move on, away.' (I never saw a
brute I hated so - he must be wicked
to deserve such pain).
-
This morning's sunlight only reluctantly observes -
the light at the stanchion, the fencepost and the gate.
Carry it all forth, then away! I do not wish to
know. 'A living frame for one more picture
in a sheet of flame.'
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