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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Joseph Walleser

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Beside the Master

Joseph Walleser

GOD spoke to me to-day.

Clearly I heard Him speak,

And yet I could not understand.

Since death withdrew a hand that lay in mine,

Sad had I been for everything;

For I had seen,

As all men sometime see,

The one dark flaw in rosy dawn.

In need thereafter was I fain

To pluck a comfort from my days:

That I might love what would not die,

In whatsoever I had need to do

I sought for beauty.

But now to-day,

Not many moments since,

I stood where I beheld the birth of moths.

I saw them born in suffering;

I saw their beauty;

I saw them die;

One brief hour passed

Between their birth and death.

Therein God spoke to me:

With how much pain he labors,

How delicate His workmanship,

How careless He to cast away!

I cannot understand

What He would have me know.