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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354900" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Drowned Alive</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was one so deeply drowned, <br>That when the drag my body found, <br>Twas void of motion, void of breath, <br>And to sensation dead as death. <br>In a languid summer mood <br>I had plunged into a flood, <br>That to the low sun’s slanting beams <br>Gleamed with only quiet gleams, <br>Each with a wide flicker sheeting <br>From its still floor, fast and fleeting, <br>E’en such a flood as, one would say, <br>Could never, or by night or day, <br>Have drenched a man’s warm life away. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But what are these down in its bed <br>That trail so long and look so red, <br>Moving as in conscious sport? <br>Are they weeds of curious sort? <br>But I’ll drive to them and see <br>Into all their mystery. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Down I dive. A plentious crop! <br>Some shall with me to the top, <br>For here there is too dim a light <br>To show their character aright. <br>I wind them in my arms, intent <br>To root them up in my ascent; <br>But they resist me, and again <br>I tug them with a stronger strain. <br>Full well, I trow, they hold their own, <br>Gripping fast each bedded stone <br>With their tuby roots, that go <br>Down through the stiff slime below. <br>Well at last I find that I <br>Must leave them.—But in vain I try! <br>Fierce as lightning on my brain <br>Smites the dread truth—I try in vain! <br>Yea, more and more, in coils and flakes <br>Like long blood-red watersnakes, <br>The deadly things around me clasp— <br>The more I tug the more they grasp! <br>My pent breath, growing hot and thin, <br>Explodes with a dull booming din; <br>While through my unclenched teeth the wave <br>Comes drenching! Is there none to save? <br>None near to see, to guess, to trace <br>Under the water s gleaming face <br>The dread extremity of one <br>Thus fastened down? Ah! Is there none? <br>Wild as vain my struggles grow— <br>Horror, horror, life must go! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hope gives up her ghost, despair; <br>I am dying; round me here <br>The long weeds erst so deeply red, <br>Look, even where nearest, grey as lead, <br>As mid them, settling down, I sway <br>To and fro, and fast away <br>Life keeps bubbling—bubbling, aye <br>Through my cold lips wide agape, <br>White, and stiffening to that shape <br>They take at last when done with breath <br>In the rigid face of death. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now, while sullen drummings make <br>My spirit through mine ears to ache, <br>Life-long memories interwrought <br>With all I ever felt or thought, <br>Sacred fancies hidden long <br>Lest the world should do them wrong, <br>Pent-back feelings that for years <br>Just below the source of tears <br>Folded close their glowing wings, <br>With a million other things, <br>All thick interthronging press <br>Through my drowning consciousness; <br>Then comes the thought of how my doom <br>Must wrap my mother in its gloom; <br>And give my sire to hold his breath <br>For anguish, hearing of my death, <br>And wound one fond heart to the core <br>In the wide world evermore. <br>All in the same instant so <br>Do these quick thoughts come and go, <br>Life within my failing brain <br>Full of pity, full of pain. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lastly a drear stupor blent <br>With a comfortless content, <br>Into one mass of clammy clay <br>Kneads mind and body. Drenched away <br>With one faint shudder, one last throe, <br>Life stagnates and its shell lies low, <br>Swaying weed-bound to and fro, <br>Void of feeling and of breath, <br>How die we, if this be not death? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah! What thrilling, thrilling pain <br>Kindles through my heart and brain! <br>Ah! What horrors o’er me wave, <br>Shadowing forth as from the grave; <br>Ah! Those sudden gleams of light, <br>They fall like firebrands on my sight! <br>Ah! What vast and heavy world <br>Is all at once upon me hurled, <br>Massing into one immense <br>Oppression, every tortured sense. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">. . . . . <br>Yes; I now remember well <br>How my sudden fate befell; <br>And are we, then, in death s grim thrall, <br>Thus consciousness of our funeral? <br>But where are they who most should mourn <br>When by bier is graveward borne? <br>With her whose face I yearn to see— <br>Where are they? And where is she? <br>Where the crape-trimm’d followers all? <br>Where the coffin and the pall? <br>Or do death and nature strive <br>Within me? Is the drowned alive? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charles+Harpur">Charles Harpur</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=354900" data-title="The Drowned Alive de Charles Harpur" data-description="I was one so deeply drowned, 
That when the drag my body found, 
Twas void of motion, void of breath, 
And to sensation dead as death. 
In a languid summer mood 
I had plunged into a flood, 
That to the low sun’s slanting beams 
Gleamed with onl..."></div>
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