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

XXX. "The blow fell..."[22] by Frederick Philip Grove No, do not speak to me of healing time! Time is a murderer that eats his issue: Time spins and weaves and frays and wastes his tissue And covers all his wreck with oozy slime. The healing which he brings is  but forgetting Of what the ruin which he buried meant: What boots it that the sun his colour lent If he himself goes blind in his own setting? That she who was is not: this wearing sorrow Is, while it lives, a last gift of her day. No, do not tell me it will pass away: Such comfort casts no glamour on the morrow. And if it did, I should not want it so-- But rather join the long line of dead singers Whose grief, engraved in words, endures and lingers A symbol of universal woe. In Memoriam 15/30