XIII

"Within the webs of darkness and of day

The spider Hours spin about thy world,

Who now finds time to even laugh or pray,

Cramped in a term of years that are uncurled

Like coils of some huge monster, head uphurled

To fang when the last fold falls! Slope on slope

The night environs thee with space, empearled

With hopeless stars by which men symbol Hope,

Beneath whose light they breed and curse and pray and grope."

The Poems of Madison Cawein, Volume 1 (of 5) Lyrics and old world idylls · 第 147 / 286 题