Saint, revolutionist, <br />God and sage know well, <br />That there is a place <br />Where that much-rung bell, <br />The well-beloved body, <br />And its sensitive face <br />Must be sacrificed. <br /> <br />There is, it seems, in this <br />A something meaningless, <br />Hanging without support <br />And yet too dear to touch, <br />That life should seek its end <br />Where no will can descend, <br />Facing a gun to see <br />Long actuality. <br /> <br />What is this that is <br />The good of nothingness, <br />The death of Socrates <br />And that strange man on the cross <br />Seeking out all loss? <br />For men love life until <br />It shames both face and will. <br /> <br />Neither in hell nor heaven <br />Is the answer given, <br />Both are a servant's pay: <br />But they wish to know <br />how far the will can go, <br />Lest their infinite play <br />And their desires be <br />Shadow and mockery.<br /><br />Delmore Schwartz<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/saint-revolutionist/
