Classic Poem

Take next the Backs alone — take all that stares
Backwards out over the Nothing of past years —
That is a shut-book — limit — nothing else.
We are all composed half of these darkling shells —
(Since but half-minted only, since half's left
Vacant, as if to betray our sketchy weft).
What are the Backs of you and me, brother, but this
Half-finished and one-sided chrysalis?
All, there, is That-away-from-which-man-turns ,
There all is nothing but That-to-which-nothing-returns!
No toes stick out to invite us to run back
There, and no eyes observe this once vivacious track:
The ships-wake of this ship boasts no porthole,
All that's abaft that beam does in pitch blackness roll!
No hands hang ready to grapple to that chest
A sweetheart, and no testicles ingest
Blood in a tingling bowsprit, and no nose
Scents danger or sniffs down at jasmin or rose!
No mouth gapes there, to kiss or bite you'd say:
There is no mesmeric eloquent eye-play. —
Lighted by nothing it is a mere " Back", such as,
Reverse of his quick medal, every One-way has.