And robins for the love of self made homes,
Would not corrosion with itself be wed
And would the sky not clabber into bone?
If sand-crabs raised their necks for martyrdom--
Their vast ideals bloodying the sea--
Creation would not mourn; would lack the hum
Of noble fists that thump out piety.
In future days, in future evolutions
We will see the sand-crab seeped in sin:
He'll bray, and bow in mindless adoration
To gods poking white wings out through his skin.
And boldly, in the new philosophy,
He'll mull, and curse his own humanity.
1 comment:
mull > think
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