War and Love/Doubt
For works with similar titles, see Doubt.
DOUBT
ICan we, by any strength of ours,Thrust back this hostile worldThat tears us from ourselves,As a child from the womb,A weak lover from light breasts?
Is there any hope?Can we believeThat not in wild perversity,In blinding cruelty,Has flesh torn flesh,Has soul been torn from soul?
Must we despair?Throw back upon the gods this tauntThat even their loveliest is at bestSome ineffectual lie?
IISand in the gale whirls up,Pricks and stifles our flesh,Blinds and deafens our senseSo that we cannot hearThe crumbling downfall of the wavesNor see the limpid sunset any more.
But could we thrust from usThis threat, this misery, Borrow the mountain's strengthAs now its loneliness,Hurl back this menace on itself,Crush bronze with bronze—Why, it would be as if some tall slim god,Unburdened of his age-long apathy,Took in his hand the thin horn of the moonAnd set it to his lipsAnd blew sharp wild shrill notesSuch as our hearts, our lonely hearts,Have yearned for in the dumb bleak silences.
IIIAh! Weak as wax against their bronze are we,Ah! Faint as reed-pipes by the water's roar,And driven as land-birds by the vast sea wind.