[BNP/E3, 78 – 38]
Agony.
Death in Life.
___
Another day is past, and while it past,
What have I pondered or conceived or read?
Nothing! Another day has gone to waste.
Nothing! Each hour as it is born is dead.
I have done nothing. Time from me has fled,
And unto Beauty not a statue raised!
By thought's firm power no creed nor lie debased
By this young useless and wearièd.
Is it my lot then ever to remain
Like a grain of sand upon the beach,
A thing at will of wind, at will of sea?
Alas, that aught that wishes and has pain,
Because e'er fall'n from what its power should reach
Less than a thing inanimate should be!
Alexander Search.
May 30th 1907.
