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

XXI. "No country..."[15] by Frederick Philip Grove No country, so far, claimed me all her own; My emblem was the sail; I touched at best, When sighting land, by airy tumults blown, At dented shores and stayed, a lingering guest. And ever lay the skiff, moored in some cove, Its oars drawn in, its idle canvas furled, While I delayed in city or in grove Till called again my boundless home, the world. Now has that world lost all its potent charm To lure with distance or with mirrored coasts Or with atolls where palms thrill with alarm At fabled stories, as the haunts of ghosts. Now am I anchored, and forever now Must I here tarry. For a woman gave A child to me; and to the ground I bow: My roots are growing down into the grave. In Memoriam 15/21