THE COOL WEB
—Robert Graves
Children are dumb to say
how hot the day is,
How hot the scent is of
the summer rose,
How dreadful the black
wastes of evening sky,
How dreadful the tall
soldiers drumming by.
But we have speech, to
chill the angry day,
And speech, to dull the
rose’s cruel scent.
We spell away the
overhanging night,
We spell away the soldiers
and the fright.
There’s a cool web of
language winds us in,
Retreat from too much joy
or too much fear:
We grow sea-green at last
and coldly die
In brininess and
volubility.
But if we let our tongues lose self-possession,
Throwing off language and
its watery clasp
Before our death, instead
of when death comes,
Facing the wide glare of
the children’s day,
Facing the rose, the dark sky and the drums,
Facing the rose, the dark sky and the drums,
We shall go mad no doubt
and die that way.
____________________
—Medusa
Be sure to check out our newest photo album on Medusa's Facebook page: SF Reading for Winans by Annie Menebroker.
