Poem by Arthur William Symons

Satiety

I have outlived my life, and linger on,
Knowing myself the ghost of one that was.
Come, kindly death, and let my flesh (being grass)
Nourish some beast's sad life when I am gone.
What joy is left in all I look upon?
I cannot sin, it wearies me. Alas!
I loathe the laggard moments as they pass;
I tire of all but swift oblivion.

Yet, if all power to taste the dear deceit
Be not outworn and perished utterly;
If it could be, then surely it were sweet--
I go down on my knees and pray: O God,
Send me some last illusion, ere I be
A clod--perhaps at rest--within a clod. 

1. Pastel: Masks and Faces
2. Grey Hours: Naples
3. Behind the Scenes: Empire
4. The Andante of Snakes
5. At Glan-y-Wern

Ella Wilcox Satiety ("To yearn for what we have not had, to sit")

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