The Black Christ & Other Poems/In the Midst of Life
In the Midst of Life
BUD bursting from a tombOf dust, this mortal knowsIn winter's sterile wombFor your despoiling growsWhat comes to every rose.
Grass so securely green,Sky-climbing corn so tall,Know in your length is seenWhat overtowers all:The shadow of the fall.
Yet blossoms with each springReopen; grasses sprout;And jaunty corn stalks flingNew skeins of silk about.Nature is skilled to rout
Death's every ambuscade;For man alone is pouredThe potion once essayedThat sharper than a swordDestroys both mouth and gourd.
Deplore, lament, bewail;The sword seeks out the sheath;Though all things else may fail,Two things keep faith; this breathA while; and longer death.