 | The Poems of Selwyn Image |  |
122
FINIS
A little while, and all in silence ends
My best or worst! On each at last descends
The fatal curtain! Soul, thy part is played:
No voice thou heedest now of foes or friends!
My best or worst! On each at last descends
The fatal curtain! Soul, thy part is played:
No voice thou heedest now of foes or friends!
In one strait space of clinging earth I lie,
Unmoved for storm or sunlight drifting by:
Yea, though one praise and love, or all forget,
That stark thing recks not, that but now was I.
Unmoved for storm or sunlight drifting by:
Yea, though one praise and love, or all forget,
That stark thing recks not, that but now was I.
Ah! so in dreams tired life affects content,
And wakes rebellious. “Not for this were sent,
My God,” she cries, “Thy beauty and Thy love,
That strave within me towards accomplishment.”
And wakes rebellious. “Not for this were sent,
My God,” she cries, “Thy beauty and Thy love,
That strave within me towards accomplishment.”
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