Descendants Of The Duchess – Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

So he said
And his voice resounded in that vast hall
As the sea waves that enter and leave
Caves and bays and coves
When the high winter tempest the sea moves.
Along the hall, along the walls, my eyes
Scoured painting ancient one by one
None moved, no sound, but stared
And there was thought in that staring
We (I and the portraits)
We communicated as by reciprocal glaring:
The sea-waves move; the brain waves
Move; the wave – currents move;
Here and there
The descendants were not here
But all around the world, the country:
Destined for an Earth a planet that will shrink
And melt in to its own fires in a wink
When the Time comes
When the Time comes:
And
With it wither, all, all of humans,
‘Amongst all’ the descendants of the old Duchess
All comprised:
Then will her portrait rattle in its throes:
Ah! all of us humans are as the painting
Of our noble Duchess:
All destined for paintings if we get to them
That most:
In our descendants the rest, from thence
Down the giddying path of an extinction with
The planet.
That’s where we go: so far
A human who reproduces does surpass
A human who does not so reproduce.
And
If he bothers to see his descendants
Work, toil, and broil
Then the equation further changes, Sir.
But
Let us revert to the old Duchess,
The old painting –