[BNP/E3, 78 – 63-64]

Delirium

The Sepulchre.

Mystery, mystery is here

That brings a joy with a fear.

Oh, that Death should greater be

Than Time and Space and all we see,

That Change should deeper be than thought

And Time, like a portentous tomb,

Should feel corruption in its womb

     Yet itself crumble like its rot!

For e'en the sepulchre's cold stones

Shall have a death like the dead bones

They shut in.

             (What coffer can lock

Corruption out? or rottenness

What wit with cell and bolt can mock?)

Ay, even marble shall like bodies die

A death, shall have an end. The passer-by

     Shall tread the dust of the stone

             That on the grave did lie,

             In dust now like each bone.

[64^r]

The Sepulchre – 2.

     For to Corruption all must go,

     The difference in this alone:

     That some things rot quick and some slow.

Ay, the hard stone will wear away

Making the day when it was rock

Unreal as a distant day.

Only a Shadow none do know,

|By the lock'd door of Time and Space,|

With obscure and peculiar grace

      Keeps watch never to go.

Alexander Search.

September 18^th. 1907.