I am here, the other elsewhere, the silence seems to live: We are wretched ones, and Satan sifts us in his sieve. I suffer, the other suffers, and there is no traveled land Between her and me, from the other to me no word and no hand. Naught but the common and incommunicable night, The night where naught is done, and love's incredible affright. I feel a subtle wind, and my horror is released. Flee from the danger of death, from the jaws of the beast. Here once more the savor of death is between my teeth. The travail, and the vomit, and the turning beneath. I was alone in the wine-press, I trod the grape, accursed That night as I walked from wall to wall, while maniac laughter burst. He who has made the eyes, without eyes shall He behold me? He who has made the ears, without ears shall He be told me? I know that where sin abounds, superabounding is Your compassion pearled. I must pray, for it is the hour of the Sovereign of the world. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CATARINA TO CAMOENS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING BEDTIME by FRANCIS ROBERT ST. CLAIR ERSKINE HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK POLLY BE-EN UPZIDES WI' TOM by WILLIAM BARNES PSALM 11. IN DOMINO CONFIDO by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |