SICKNESS

WAVING slowly before me, pushed into the dark,

Unseen my hands explore the silence, drawing the

bark

Of my body slowly behind.

Nothing to meet my fingers but the fleece of night

Invisible blinding my face and my eyes! What if

in their flight

My hands should touch the door!

What if I suddenly stumble, and push the door

Open, and a great grey dawn swirls over my feet,

before

I can draw back!

What if unwitting I set the door of eternity wide

And am swept away in the horrible dawn, am gone

down the tide

Of eternal hereafter!

Catch my hands, my darling, between your breasts.

Take them away from their venture, before fate

wrests

The meaning out of them.

New Poems(#22726) · 第 32 / 50 题