[BNP/E3, 79 – 2-4]

Death of God – preface –

Make my heart pure as is a mother’s heart

That I with subtle mind may comprehend

The numerous ills that {…} smart

That I in every ill my hear a part

{…}

_______

And though I am unlovèd and forlorn

Yet would my {…} could sing a song

That might console a spirit that is torn.

Oh make me think of aught but mine own ill

Let me forget my suffering and my pain

Dress up with love one dress my {…} will

{…}

[2^v]

Much have I suffered and mine own distress

Has thought my own evil to forget

To make us weep for[1] human wretchedness

On every that suffers and has pain

The † children make and †

The lame, the {…} the blind

The idiot, the unloved, the {…}

The criminal, the tyrant and the slave

They all forget their {…} in joys and feasts

They who go to the death upon the scorn

Martyrs and jesters, harlots, kings and priests

And then I cried oh God, - if God there be –

These are the games of Nature or of God

I know about the name

Where is the cause of all this misery

For I know well Religion lies and {…}

Making then – will and light of hell

To fight this thing that suffers and that dies.

Hard work on an evil virtue to compel!

Take from mine anger all the taste of hate

[3^r]

Then said I unto me: I must grow strong

To trend upon my suffering and my ill

But I have with voice my soul to inspire

And I am lonely and {…}

But I must be but as a blind man left

Abandoned as passable on the way

Who would have gone to see a loved one

Dying and {…}

Blind and alone before me nor more can I give

Than the {…} bitterness of a tear

_____

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And some how lives to whisper the sweep words

I have a mother, when I think on her

All of intents pure my mind can bear

My spirit like a breath of spring doth still

Oh but her spirit pure I could have not

Now with the raining madness of my thoughts

Now with my wild and {…} imagining.

[3^v]

But if to other hearts my words can bear

A lyric shaping of the night moan

That poor mankind in {…}

Of the deep pain that its puerile heart doth tear

If I can drive to purity and to love

Of all who starve and suffer and who pine

A sight spirit that my say can move

It shall be good, eternal recompense

Unto their heart that pleasure canst prove

{…}

[4^r]

{…} how

For mankind’s

{…} to best and to good

A hand {…} and a heart consecrate

Can it be so? I know not, I am mad

What can I do condemned thus to do nought?

Much is then in me that is wreck and sad

I am a slave of mine morbid thought

{…}

___

(Simile)

A blind man, disdained

A little child my lord lies by the hand.

[1] To make us weep for ^{/To understand all\}