FullReads

“If I don’t?”

“There are men who say there’s reason hidden somewhere in a woman,
But I doubt if God himself remembers where the key was hung.”

“He may not; for they say that even God himself is growing.
I wonder if he makes believe that he is growing young;
I wonder if he makes believe that women who are giving
All they have in holy loathing to a stranger all their lives
Are the wise ones who build houses in the Bible. . . .”

“Stop — you devil!”

“. . . Or that souls are any whiter when their bodies are called wives.
If a dollar’s worth of gold will hoop the walls of hell together,
Why need heaven be such a ruin of a place that never was?
And if at last I lied my starving soul away to nothing,
Are you sure you might not miss it? Have you come to such a pass
That you would have me longer in your arms if you discovered
That I made you into someone else. . . . Oh! . . . Well, there are worse ways.
But why aim it at my feet — unless you fear you may be sorry. . . .
There are many days ahead of you.”

“I do not see those days.”

“I can see them. Granted even I am wrong, there are the children.
And are they to praise their father for his insight if we die?
Do you hear them? Do you hear them overhead — the children — singing?
Do you hear them? Do you hear the children?”

“Damn the children!”

“Why?
What have THEY done? . . . Well, then, — do it. . . . Do it now,
and have it over.”

“Oh, you devil! . . . Oh, you. . . .”

“No, I’m not a devil, I’m a prophet —
One who sees the end already of so much that one end more
Would have now the small importance of one other small illusion,
Which in turn would have a welcome where the rest have gone before.
But if I were you, my fancy would look on a little farther
For the glimpse of a release that may be somewhere still in sight.
Furthermore, you must remember those two hundred invitations
For the dancing after dinner. We shall have to shine tonight.
We shall dance, and be as happy as a pair of merry spectres,
On the grave of all the lies that we shall never have to tell;
We shall dance among the ruins of the tomb of our endurance,
And I have not a doubt that we shall do it very well.
There! — I’m glad you’ve put it back; for I don’t like it.
Shut the drawer now.
No — no — don’t cancel anything. I’ll dance until I drop.
I can’t walk yet, but I’m going to. . . . Go away somewhere,
and leave me. . . .
Oh, you children! Oh, you children! . . . God, will they never stop!”