Frederick Philip Grove
THE DIRGE
(IM 15, 1-33)

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e-Edition by Gaby Divay
© August 2007

University of Manitoba Libraries	FPG & FrL Collections	University of Manitoba Archives

II. "The blow fell..."[1] by Frederick Philip Grove To C. G. The blow fell; we stood stunned--forced to accept A world subverted and crespuscular Which darkness from its core had overcrept. As if an earthquake, with upheaving jar Had rocked to light creation's depth which spins With things unknown and spread them wild and far-- Chaotic things, as when a world begins, Convulsive--things which should unsounded lie: The hideous tremours of our origins. And we stood sightless; impotent to try Where we could find, with bleeding tentacles, Some token known to orient us by. Yet, not to understand and know still spells Some sort of not-unhappiness to man, Some sort of haven amid surging hells. For, as the blow was dulled, and as a span Of time stole in between us and that day, Then only was't that true torment began. We looked about us then--looked as they may Who from some nightmare tremblingly awake-- And saw the sun still holding ancient sway; We saw the moon rise, saw from slough and brake The mists thread and disperse, the river still The thirsty bottoms of its valley slake. And we saw man, contented on his hill, Hurrying to and fro, and in smug glee, Ant-like, heap treasure against the coming chill! Then knew we, nought on earth had changed but we Who stood alone, we two, and grasped at last What blow had wrenched the present from the past: That there were two who had but now been three! In Memoriam 15/2