Long after there were none of them alive <br />About the place—where there is now no place <br />But a walled hole where fruitless vines embrace <br />Their parent skeletons that yet survive <br />In evil thorns—none of us could arrive <br />At a more cogent answer to their ways <br />Than one old Isaac in his latter days <br />Had humor or compassion to contrive. <br /> <br />I mentioned them, and Isaac shook his head: <br />“The Power that you call yours and I call mine <br />Extinguished in the last of them a line <br />That Satan would have disinherited. <br />When we are done with all but the Divine, <br />We die.” And there was no more to be said.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/recalled/
