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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
76
TYRANNY
What is there now more merciless
Than such fast lips that will not speak;
That stir not if one curse or bless
A God who made them weak?
Than such fast lips that will not speak;
That stir not if one curse or bless
A God who made them weak?
More maddening to one there is naught
Than such white eyelids sealed on eyes,
Eyes vacant of the thing named thought,
An exile in the skies.
Than such white eyelids sealed on eyes,
Eyes vacant of the thing named thought,
An exile in the skies.
Ah, silent tongue! ah, dull, closed ear!
What angel utterances low
Have wooed you? so you may not hear
Our mortal words of woe!
What angel utterances low
Have wooed you? so you may not hear
Our mortal words of woe!
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |