24 
AMBERGRIS 
 
 
 
 
FROM MYSTERIES 
 
Perdurabo 
 
Exile from humankind !  The snow’s fresh flakes 
Are warmer than men’s hearts.  My mind is wrought 
Into dark shapes of solitary thought 
That loves and sympathises, but awakes 
No answering love or pity.  What a pang 
Hath this strange solitude to aggravate 
The self-abasement and the blows of Fate ! 
No snake of hell that so severe a fang ! 
 
I am not lower than all men—I feel 
Too keenly.  Yet my place is not above, 
Though I have this—unalterable Love 
In every fibre.  I am crucified 
Apart on a long burning crag of steel, 
Tortured, cast out ;  and yet—I shall abide