What I expected
What I expected, was
Thunder, fighting, Long struggles with men And climbing. After continual straining I should grow strong: Then the rocks would shake, And I rest long. What I had not foreseen Was the gradual day Weakening the will Leaking the brightness away, The lack of good to touch, The fading of body and soul ––Smoke before wind, Corrupt, unsubstantial. The wearing of Time, And the watching of cripples pass With limbs shaped like questions In their odd twist, The pulverous grief Melting the bones with pity, The sick falling from earth–– These, I could not foresee. Expecting always Some brightness to hold in trust, Some final innocence Exempt from dust, That, hanging solid, Would dangle through all, Like the created poem, Or faceted crystal. |
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