The Poetry Corner

Obsequial Ode

By D. H. Lawrence (David Herbert Richards)

Surely you've trodden straight To the very door! Surely you took your fate Faultlessly. Now it's too late To say more. It is evident you were right, That man has a course to go A voyage to sail beyond the charted seas. You have passed from out of sight And my questions blow Back from the straight horizon that ends all one sees. Now like a vessel in port You unlade your riches unto death, And glad are the eager dead to receive you there. Let the dead sort Your cargo out, 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 Breaks light into jewels; and dead breasts whiter For your wrath; and yes, I opine They anoint their brows with your blood, as a perfect chrism. On your body, the beaten anvil, Was hammered out That moon-like sword the ascendant dead unsheathe Against us; sword that no man will Put to rout; Sword that severs the question from us who breathe. Surely you've trodden straight To the very door. You have surely achieved your fate; And the perfect dead are elate To have won once more. Now to the dead you are giving Your last allegiance. But what of us who are living And fearful yet of believing In your pitiless legions.