Re-adjustment
Clive Staples Lewis 1898 (Clive Staples Lewis Belfast) – 1963 (Oxford)
I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour
In being the last of one's kind: a topmost moment as one watched
The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge
Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning.
Now I see that, all along, I was assuming a posterity
Of gentle hearts: someone, however distant in the depths of time,
Who could pick up our signal, who could understand a story. There won't be.
Between the new Hembidae and us who are dying, already
There rises a barrier across which no voice can ever carry,
For devils are unmaking language. We must let that alone forever.
Uproot your loves, one by one, with care, from the future,
And trusting to no future, receive the massive thrust
And surge of the many-dimensional timeless rays converging
On this small, significant dew drop, the present that mirrors all.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 45 sec read
- 101 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | AXXBCXC CAAAXBX |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic octameter |
Characters | 854 |
Words | 150 |
Stanzas | 2 |
Stanza Lengths | 7, 7 |
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"Re-adjustment" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/6957/re-adjustment>.
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