The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXVI

THE SAME CONTINUED
And who shall tell what ignominy death
Has yet in store for us; what abject fears
Even for the best of us; what fights for breath;
What sobs, what supplications, what wild tears;
What impotence of soul against despairs
Which blot out reason?--The last trembling thought
Of each poor brain, as dissolution nears,
Is not of fair life lost, of Heaven bought
And glory won. 'Tis not the thought of grief;
Of friends deserted; loving hearts which bleed;
Wives, sisters, children who around us weep.
But only a mad clutching for relief
From physical pain, importunate Nature's need;
The search as for a womb where we may creep
Back from the world, to hide,--perhaps to sleep.

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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt was an English poet and writer. more…

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"The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXXVI" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 29 May 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/38906/the-love-sonnets-of-proteus.--part-iii:-gods-and-false-gods:-lxxvi>.

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