Poems (Hardy)/Tragedy

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4640984Poems — TragedyIrenè Hardy
TRAGEDY

   "The tragedy is not his (Rousseau's); but the
   tragedy is the world's, that it should have had to
   endure him as the master of its thought, its leader."

NOT that, O World, thy grave diurnal round
Beheld the heart of man unreconciled
To such a lot as thou hadst given thy child;
Not that man's thought was red with blood, or bound
In prison by his brother's hate, or wound
Within the web of destiny or wild,
Dark death's; nay, not because of these up-piled,
Do fear and pity all my soul astound:
But that, O World, processionary moved
Thy nations,—this unto its doom, and this
  To starlike state, marshaled thereto by fate,
Wrapped up in one fire-shafted word, amiss
From mouth ignoble, while thy prophets proved
  Un-Delphian, dumb, not daring to be great.