What am I if not a pattern of manhood? What should I be if not a dimension of silence? I have suffered my pattern, and the last of it will be the beginning of life in the ground of ants and grubs or in workings of the rain. I will have become indifferent and detached, without fear, no longer envious but happy as a spark at night. I will be gone into the dark, my real mother. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POETS ARE BORN NOT MADE by ROBERT FROST SYNOPSIS OF A FAILED POEM by JAMES GALVIN VICTOR RAFOLSKI ON ART by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MIDDLE-AGED; A STUDY IN EMOTION by EZRA POUND THE TOMB AT AKR CAAR by EZRA POUND WALT WHITMAN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |