Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
 
Obsequial Chant
By D. H. Lawrence
 
SURELY you’ve trodden straight
  To the very door!
Surely you took your fate
Faultlessly. Now ’tis too late
  To say more.        5
 
  It is evident you were right—
  That man has a course to go,
A voyage to sail beyond the charted seas.
  So you have passed from sight,
  And our sighings blow        10
Back from that straight horizon which ends all one sees.
 
  Now, like a vessel in port,
  You unlade your riches into death,
And glad are the watchful dead to receive you there.
  Let the dead sort        15
  Your cargo; breath from breath
Let them disencumber your bounty, let them all share.
 
  I imagine dead hands are brighter,
  Their fingers in sunset shine
With jewels of passion once broken through you as a prism.        20
  Dead breasts are whiter
  For your wrath; and yes, I opine
They anoint their brows with your blood, as a perfect chrism.
 
It is evident you were right—
  There are bounds to break,        25
Sumptuous passage from sight,
For you, and sighs down the white
  Path of your wake.
 
Now to the dead you’ve given
  Your last allegiance.        30
But woe unto us who are driven
After you, hostile to heaven
  And its hateful legions.
 
 
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