Eight days went by, eight days Comforted by no nights, until finally: "Would you behold yourself old, beloved?" I was pierced, yet I consented gladly For I knew it could not be otherwise. And she -- "Behold yourself old! Sustained in strength, wielding might in gript surges! Not bodying the sun in weak leaps But holding way over rockish men With fern-free fingers on their little crags, Their hollows, the new Atlas, to bear them For pride and for mockery! Behold Yourself old! winding with slow might -- A vine among oaks -- to the thin tops: Leaving the leafless leaved, Bearing purple clusters! Behold Yourself old! birds are behind you. You are the wind coming that stills birds, Shakes the leaves in booming polyphony -- Slow winning high way amid the knocking Of boughs, evenly crescendo, The din and bellow of the male wind! Leap then from forest into foam! Lash about from low into high flames Tipping sound, the female chorus -- Linking all lions, all twitterings To make them nothing! Behold yourself old!" As I made to answer she continued, A little wistfully yet in a voice clear cut: "Good is my over lip and evil My under lip to you henceforth: For I have taken your soul between my two hands And this shall be as it is spoken." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEFINITION OF LOVE by ANDREW MARVELL THE MORAL FABLES: THE COCK AND THE FOX by AESOP MEROPE; A TRAGEDY by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE WATER-SPRINGS by WILLIAM ROSE BENET INAUGURATION SONNET: WILLIAM JEWETT TUCKER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |