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NATURE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I am the stage, impassive, mute and cold
Last Line: And by my breast and brows the air be riven.
Subject(s): Death; Dead, The


I AM the stage, impassive, mute and cold,
That thrills not where the actor's foot hath trod.
My alabaster halls, my emerald
Stairs, and my tones were sculptured by a god:
Your voice of crying I know not, no, nor see
The passing of the human comedy
That looks to heaven to find its period.

I roll, and to my deep disdain I thrust
The seed of ants and human populations;
Their tenements I know not from their dust,
Their names I know not—I that bear the nations;
Mother in name, in deed a very room
For death; my winter takes its hecatomb,
My spring is careless of your adorations.

Before you, always essenced, always fair,
I shook my locks abroad the winds of heaven,
And trod my customary path in air,
While the divine hands held the balance even.
And onward, to that void where all things roll
I shall be carried silently and sole,
And by my breast and brows the air be riven.





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