Poems (Shore)/My Heart Prostrate
MY HEART PROSTRATE
My heart, prostrate with agony, Lies so exhausted here,It cannot sigh another sigh, Nor weep another tear.
But all the same th' undying worm Is busy with his prey,Is busy with the hidden harm That works unseen decay.
I perished long and long ago In heart and soul and mind;The body, unsubdued, by woe Is lingering still behind.