A Marsh Message
(In Memoriam: Olivia Susan Clemens.)
The melancholy marshes brood
In all their rich monotony:
Beyond them, in a twilight mood,
The more than melancholy sea.
A seemly spot for news of death:
The message comes, with tidal pain:
The ancient faring-forth of breath,
The young laid low, the lovely slain.
Her life was one that, river-sweet,
Across the uplands ran, — but then
Inexorably plunged to meet
The under waves that wait for men,
The lethal waters, salt and still,
Wherover mystery bides; the Vast
Whose voice is mystic, and whose will
Is stronger than our will at last.
*****
The marsh is troubled in its dream
By a faint, tremulous stir of air:
Is it the passing of the stream,
The young fresh soul that was so fair?
The melancholy marshes brood
In all their rich monotony:
Beyond them, in a twilight mood,
The more than melancholy sea.
A seemly spot for news of death:
The message comes, with tidal pain:
The ancient faring-forth of breath,
The young laid low, the lovely slain.
Her life was one that, river-sweet,
Across the uplands ran, — but then
Inexorably plunged to meet
The under waves that wait for men,
The lethal waters, salt and still,
Wherover mystery bides; the Vast
Whose voice is mystic, and whose will
Is stronger than our will at last.
*****
The marsh is troubled in its dream
By a faint, tremulous stir of air:
Is it the passing of the stream,
The young fresh soul that was so fair?
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