This menace: -- of remembrance that must come: This menace: -- of the waking that must be. O soul, let the rhythm of life itself grow dumb And be the song of death our litany: Let the world perish as a perishing fire, For us be less than ashes without flame, So that we twain our last breath here suspire, Here where none uttereth word, none calleth name. For in the Hollow Land is utter peace, The magic spell which hath no first or last, But all that never ceaseth here doth cease And what would know no death is long since past: Only one thing endures where all expire -- The inviolate rapture of fulfilled desire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETRY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE PRINCESS: [BUGLE] SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON RETURN by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THRENODY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES KINDLY VISION by OTTO JULIUS BIERBAUM A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 16 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |