To Professor Sz: On Sharing Some Instincts With Him
Sometimes in a still moment I realize
How many parts of me have had to die
In order that the rest of me may live.
How much of horn and claw and spiky darts
Had I to grow in place of tender parts
That from the fatal wound I may survive.
Survival! that old law – raw and crude –
And the shameless, naked need to come so down!
Half-lamb, half-lion what a monster has it made
Of lofty Man, once to the jungle drawn!
The best of us have thus succumbed alas!
In this imperfect world, to its demands
Yet when I think of you I can still feel
The old familiar rhythm in your breast
The echo of which lies in my one too,
And know it is the music of the stars
Which peeping nightly break the spell of day
And sing in chorus with the wakened West.