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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  1551 Death

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By MadisonCawein

1551 Death

THROUGH some strange sense of sight or touch

I find what all have found before,

The presence I have feared so much,

The unknown’s immaterial door.

I seek not and it comes to me;

The do not know the thing I find:

The fillet of fatality

Drops from my brows that made me blind.

Point forward now or backward, light!

The way I take I may not choose:

Out of the night into the night,

And in the night no certain clews.

But on the future, dim and vast,

And dark with dust and sacrifice,

Death’s towering ruin from the past

Makes black the land that round me lies.