"All that I owe the fellows of the grave"
All that i owe the fellows of the grave And all the dead bequeath from pale estates Lies in the fortuned boned, the flask of blood, Like senna stirs along the ravaged roots. O all i owe is all the flesh inherits, my fathers' Loves that pull upon my nerves My sisters' tears that sing upon my head, My brothers blood that salts my open wounds,
Heir to the scalding veins that hold love's drop, My fallen filled that had the hint of death, Heir to the telling senses that alone Aquaint the flesh with a remembered itch, I round this heritage as rounds the sun His winy sky, and, as the candle's moon, Cast light upon my weather. I am heir
To women who have tristed their last smile, To children to were suckled on a plague, To young adorers dying on a kiss. All such disease I docter in my blood, And all such love's a shrub sown in the breath.
Then look, my eyes, upon this bonebound fortune And Browse upon the postures of the dead; All night and day I eye the ragged globe Through the periscopes rightsited from the grave; All night and day i wander in these same Wax clothes that wax upon the ageing ribs; All night my fortune slumbers in it's sheet. Then look, my heart upon the scarlet trove, And look, my grain, upon the falling wheat; All my fortune slumbers in it's sheet.