Ein Feste Burg

From the black gliding waves—
Though I turn away from them —
The sure promise of darkness
Dwells in my heart and eye

Upon the hot, untamed
Chaos of separate lusts
Its cold horizon cuts
The contours of a life

Frontier to the flames
Of happiness and grief
It is an end, it is peace
Beyond the mind's demand.

As antaeus sank down
To the great earth for strength
Memory rests on death,
then meets its adversary.

Hubert Witheford

page break page break