To give life you must take life,
and as our grief falls flat and hollow
upon the billion—blooded sea
I pass upon serious inward—breaking shoals rimmed
with white—legged, white—bellied rotting creatures
lengthily dead and rioting against surrounding scenes.
Dear child, I only did to you what the sparrow
did to you; I am old when it is fashionable to be
young; I cry when it is fashionable to laugh.
I hated you when it would have taken less courage