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Thoughts.
411
O the huge sob—A few bubbles—the white foam
spirting up—And then the women gone,
Sinking there, while the passionless wet flows on—
And I now pondering, Are those women indeed
gone?
Are Souls drowned and destroyed so?
Is only matter triumphant?
spirting up—And then the women gone,
Sinking there, while the passionless wet flows on—
And I now pondering, Are those women indeed
gone?
Are Souls drowned and destroyed so?
Is only matter triumphant?
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6.
Of what I write from myself—As if that were not
the resumé;
Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were
not less complete than my poems;
As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be
as lasting as my poems;
As if here were not the amount of all nations, and of all the
lives of heroes.
the resumé;
Of Histories—As if such, however complete, were
not less complete than my poems;
As if the shreds, the records of nations, could possibly be
as lasting as my poems;
As if here were not the amount of all nations, and of all the
lives of heroes.
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7.
Of obedience, faith, adhesiveness;
As I stand aloof and look, there is to me something
profoundly affecting in large masses of men,
following the lead of those who do not believe in
men.
As I stand aloof and look, there is to me something
profoundly affecting in large masses of men,
following the lead of those who do not believe in
men.
