Menken, Adah Isaacs
|HEMLOCK IN THE FURROWS.|
O weak Soul! Let us follow the heavy hearse that bore
our old Dream out past the white-horned Daylight of
Let thy pale Dead come up from their furrows of
winding-sheets to mock thy prayers with what thy days
might have been.
Let the Living come back and point out the shadows
they swept o'er the disk of thy morning star.
Have thou speech with them for the story of its
swimming down in tremulous nakedness to the Red Sea of
Go back and grapple with thy lost Angels that stand in
terrible judgement against thee.
Seek thou the bloodless skeleton once hugged to thy
Hath it grown warmer under thy passionate kissings?
Or, hath it closed its seeming wings and shrunk its
white body down to a glistening coil?
Didst thou wait the growth of fangs to front the arrows
of Love's latest peril?80Didst thou not see a black, hungry vulture wheeling
down low to the white-bellied coil where thy Heaven had
once based itself?
O blind Soul of mine!