 |
 | 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
| 31. |
| 32. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
 | The poems of Trumbull Stickney |  |
280
XXV
You'll say when here again after it all
You'll say when here again after it all
I recollect these things, that I devise,
Like a poor devot in confessional,
By saying aloud to make them otherwise,
I recollect these things, that I devise,
Like a poor devot in confessional,
By saying aloud to make them otherwise,
And with the thrust of that terrific guilt
Grown soft and coward, to talk away the stain.—
Not so—The wrong is done, the blood is spilt,
I know it—if sense at all be in my brain.
Grown soft and coward, to talk away the stain.—
Not so—The wrong is done, the blood is spilt,
I know it—if sense at all be in my brain.
'T is sorry homage, yes, and pitiful,
After so long to bring before your eyes
The frayed and dusty flowers of my soul
With such belated show of sacrifice.
After so long to bring before your eyes
The frayed and dusty flowers of my soul
With such belated show of sacrifice.
| The poems of Trumbull Stickney | |