It was not death for I stood up

It was not death, for I stood up,

And all the dead lie down.

It was not night, for all the

Put out their tongues for noon.

It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,

Nor fire, for just my marble

Could keep a chancel cool.

And yet it tasted like them all,

The figures I have

Set orderly for

Reminded me of mine,

As if my life were

And fitted to a

And could not breathe without a key,

And 'twas like midnight, some,

When everything that ticked has

And space stares all around,

Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns,

Repeal the beating ground;

But most like chaos, stopless, cool,

Without a chance, or spar,

Or even a report of

To justify despair.6. siroccos: hot moist winds, as those from the Libyan desert blowing across the Mediterranean towards Italy8. chancel: part of a church holding the altar and the choir 22. spar: a strong pole or mast