"I grasped a thread of silver; it cut me to the bone -- I reached for an apple; it was bleak as a stone -- I reached for a heart, and touched a raw blade -- And this was the bargain God had made For a little gift of speech Set a cubit higher than the common reach, A debt running on until the fool is dead." Carve a Pater Noster to put at his head As a curse or a prayer, And leave him there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLAMING CIRCLE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS D.G.C. TO J.A by EMILY JANE BRONTE THE YOUNG GRAY HEAD by CAROLINE ANNE BOWLES SOUTHEY THE MILKMAID by JEFFREYS TAYLOR THE MAIDS OF ELFIN-MERE by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM FOR LACK OF GOLD by ADAM AUSTIN |