2 min read
Слушать

The Child Dying

Unfriendly friendly universe,

I pack your stars into my purse,

And bid you so farewell.

That I can leave you, quite go out,

Go out, go out beyond all doubt,

My father says, is the miracle.

You are so great, and I so small:

I am nothing, you are all:

Being nothing,

I can take this way.

Oh I need neither rise nor fall,

For when I do not move at allI shall be out of all your day.

It's said some memory will

In the other place, grass in the rain,

Light on the land, sun on the sea,

A flitting grace, a phantom face,

But the world is out.

There is not

Where it and its ghost can ever be.

Father, father,

I dread this

Blown from the far side of

The cold cold corner.

What house, what hold,

What hand is there?

I look and

Nothing-filled eternity,

And the great round world grows weak and old.

Hold my hand, oh hold it fast-I am changing! - until at

My hand in yours no more will change,

Though yours change on.

You here,

I there,

So hand in hand, twin-leafed despair - I did not know death was so strange.

0
0
60
Give Award

Edwin Muir

Edwin Muir (15 May 1887 – 3 January 1959) was a Scottish poet, novelist and translator. Born on a farm in Deerness, a parish of Orkney, Scotland…

Other author posts

Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments

Reading today

Мальчик с трубкой
Ryfma
Ryfma is a social app for writers and readers. Publish books, stories, fanfics, poems and get paid for your work. The friendly and free way for fans to support your work for the price of a coffee
© 2024 Ryfma. All rights reserved 12+