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.
 
The Core
By Marx G. Sabel
 
I HAVE won free of your body at last;
  The fire and ice of it
Can neither burn nor freeze me fast.
 
I look upon you now no whit
  Afraid, for I do not desire:        5
And yet, what is the benefit?
 
I still must worship; something higher
  Impels me youward constantly.
Yet I am fagot for a fire
 
The heat of which is of such degree        10
  That I shrivel painlessly therein;
And I am flower for a sea
 
So cold all things that find it win
  To death without the slightest change.
Although I have torn the cabals of sin,        15
 
I drift beyond the senses’ range
  In spiritual perfectness
To lands remote, grotesquely strange,
 
That thrill my passions now no less
  Than even your beauty thrilled before.        20
But this, this joy, is fathomless;
 
More certain, steadfast, deeper, more
  Inexorable, and it demands
The core of what we thought the core!
 
You cannot touch it with your hands,        25
  You cannot see it with your eyes:
Only your soul that understands
  May teach you its divinities!
 
 
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