1898 · PDF PAGE 13
Aceldama
III. I was a child long years ago, it seems, Or months it may be—I am still a child— They pictured me the stars as wheeling wild In a huge bowl of water ; but my dreams Built it of Titan oak, its sides were piled Of fearful wood Hewn from God’s forests, paid with sweat and tears and blood. IV. I crept, a stealthy, hungry soul, to grasp Its vast edge, to look out to the beyond ; To know. My eyes strained out, there was no bond, No continuity, no bridge to clasp, No pillars for the universe. Immond, Shapeless, unstayed, Nothing, Nothing, Nothing,…
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