In Memoriam A.H.H.
baby new to earth and sky,
What time his tender palm is prest
Against the circle of the breast,
never thought that ‘this is I:’
as he grows he gathers much,
And learns the use of ‘I,’ and ‘me,’
And finds ‘I am not what I see,
other than the things I touch.’
rounds he to a separate mind
From whence clear memory may begin,
As thro’ the frame that binds him in
isolation grows defined.
use may lie in blood and breath,
Which else were fruitless of their due,
Had man to learn himself anew
the second birth of Death.
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