Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

I AM NOT SAD! by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL

Poet Analysis

First Line: I AM NOT SAD, THOUGH SADNESS SEEMS
Last Line: THE DARKNESS OF A NAMELESS TOMB!
Subject(s): GRIEF; SORROW; SADNESS;
I AM not sad, though sadness seem
At times to cloud my brow;
I cherished once a foolish dream --
Thank Heaven, 'tis not so now.
Truth's sunshine broke,
And I awoke
To feel 'twas right to bow
To Fate's decree, and this my doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

I grieve not, though a tear may fill
This glazed and vacant eye;
Old thoughts will rise, do what we will,
But soon again they die;
An idle gush,
And all is hush,
The fount is soon run dry:
And cheerly now I meet my doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

I am not mad, although I see
Things of no better mould
Than I myself am, greedily
In Fame's bright page enrolled,
That they may tell
The story well,
What shines may not be gold.
No, no! content I court my doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

The luck is theirs -- the loss is mine,
And yet no loss at all;
The mighty ones of eldest time,
I ask where they did fall?
Tell me the one
Who e'er could shun
Touch with Oblivion's pall?
All bear with me an equal doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

Brave temple and huge pyramid,
Hill sepulchred by art,
The barrow acre-vast, where hid
Moulders some Nimrod's heart;
Each monstrous birth
Cumbers old earth,
But acts a voiceless part,
Resolving all to mine own doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

Tradition with her palsied hand,
And purblind History, may
Grope and guess well that in this land
Some great one lived his day;
And what is this,
Blind hit or miss,
But labour thrown away,
For counterparts to mine own doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb?

I do not peak and pine away,
Lo! this deep bowl I quaff;
If sigh I do, you still must say
It sounds more like a laugh.
'Tis not too late
To separate
The good seed from the chaff;
And scoff at those who scorn my doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb.

I spend no sigh, I shed no tear,
Though life's first dream is gone;
And its bright picturings now appear
Cold images of stone;
I've learned to see
The vanity
Of lusting to be known,
And gladly hail my changeless doom,
The darkness of a Nameless Tomb!



Home: PoetryExplorer.net