 | Imaginary Sonnets |  |
85
II.
Am I a corpse? a plant? a shape of clay?
Or flows there still a dull and sluggish stream
Through my numb body, while the cruel dream
That I was once a man fades slow away?
Or flows there still a dull and sluggish stream
Through my numb body, while the cruel dream
That I was once a man fades slow away?
And am I thinking? or has mind to-day
Unlearnt to think, here in this cell where seem
To be nor years nor hours, and where the gleam
Of heaven shows me but my rats at play?
Unlearnt to think, here in this cell where seem
To be nor years nor hours, and where the gleam
Of heaven shows me but my rats at play?
Am I myself a rat? I gnaw my slice
Of bread with a rat's teeth. There are no things
Beyond this cell. Naught is, save rats and mice.
Of bread with a rat's teeth. There are no things
Beyond this cell. Naught is, save rats and mice.
Space is a stifling cell; Time has nor feet nor wings:
Is't God or man who holds me in this vice?
My jug is empty. Cease, ye mutterings.
Is't God or man who holds me in this vice?
My jug is empty. Cease, ye mutterings.
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