Frederick Philip Grove
LANDSCAPES
(IM 16-28)

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e-Edition by Gaby Divay
© August 2007

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

DEJECTION [15] by Frederick Philip Grove (1914) I never thought a day could be so stale And drag its weary hours as this one did. Thus leaves a slimy slug a shiny[16] trail On shingly shale beneath the sky's low lid. Beneath that sky my soul, distended, lay, Recipient of nought but what would steep More deeply in dejection, grey in grey, Scarce dented by the hours' reluctant creep. Now comes, a mere enhancing of the gloom That was the day, though less relaxed and slack, At last the night, another day's dark womb, And wraps all things, eclipsing grey in black. My soul, scarce moving, breathes like the tide, Or as this marshy upland heaves a sigh Which meets the mists and rose but to subside. Relief or end--which of the two is nigh? In Memoriam 19