Godhead's lip hangs When our pulses have no golden tremors, And his whips are flicked by mice And all star-amorous things. Drops, drops of shivering quiet Filter under my lids. Now only am I powerful. What though the cunning gods outwit us here In daytime and in playtime, Surely they feel the gyves we lay on them In our sleep. O, subtle gods lying hidden! O, gods with your oblique eyes! Your elbows in the dawn, and wrists Bright with the afternoon, Do you not shake when a mortal slides Into your own unvexed peace? When a moving stillness breaks over your knees (An emanation of piled aeons' pressures), From our bodies flat and straight, And your limbs are locked, Futilely gods', And shut your sinister essences | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUICIDE by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THIRTY BOB A WEEK by JOHN DAVIDSON AT LULWORTH COVE A CENTURY BACK by THOMAS HARDY THAT NATURE IS A HERACLITEAN FIRE & OF THE COMFORT OF THE RESURRECTION by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS SONNET: 9. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY by JOHN MILTON THE ENCHANTMENT by THOMAS OTWAY IMITATIONS OF HORACE: ODE IV, 1 by ALEXANDER POPE THE MOTHER-FAITH by EVERARD JACK APPLETON EMANCIPATION IN THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, APRIL 16, 1862 by JAMES MADISON BELL |