Explore "Despair" by Hervey Allen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
You who made me / With first ecstasy / When I was sown, / And lovely things at night / I will not write / And burdened moan, / While veiny labyrinths with mystery ran / Till time and blood were life / And I began -- / By holier things than God, / Or any other shibboleth of man, / Dead woman wan, / By the thin, silver scream that winter morn / In the dim, shuttered room where I was born, / Be gone!
Haunt me no more, Shroud Trailer, / Go to bed.