Reverberations of mortality:
Spelt backward from its death, to me
Its life reads saddenedly.
Its breast was hollowed as the tooth of eld;
And boys, their creeping unbeheld,
A laughing moment dwelled.
Yet they, within its very heart so crept,
Reached not the heart that courage kept
With winds and years beswept.
And in its boughs did close and kindly nest
The birds, as they within its breast,
By all its leaves caressed.
But bird nor child might touch by any art
Each other’s or the tree’s hid heart,
A whole God’s breadth apart;
The breadth of God, he breadth of death and life!
Even so, even so, in undreamed strife
With pulseless Law, the wife,—
The sweetest wife on sweetest marriage-day,—
Their souls at grapple in mid-way,
Sweet to her sweet may say:
“I take you to my inmost heart, my true!”
Ah, fool! but there is one heart you
Shall never take him to!
The hold that falls not when the town is got,
The heart’s heart, whose immurèd plot
Hath keys yourself keep not!
Its ports you cannot burst—you are withstood—
For him that to your listening blood
Sends precepts as he would.