As to Being Alone: Difference between revisions

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   genre="Poetry"
   genre="Poetry"
   publisher="The Century Co."
   publisher="The Century Co."
   journal="Songs for the New Era"
   journal="Songs for the New Age"
   page_range="7-8"
   page_range="7-8"
/>
/>
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<poem>
<poem>
Such the question, and this the answer:
Such the question, and this the answer:
</poem>
</paragraph>
<paragraph keywords="">
<poem>
I feared sublimity:
I feared sublimity:
I was a little afraid of God:
I was a little afraid of God:
Silence and space terrified me, bringing the thought of what an irritable clod I was and how soon death would gulp me down...
Silence and space terrified me, bringing the thought of  
::: what an irritable clod I was and how soon death  
::: would gulp me down...  
</poem>
</poem>
</paragraph>
</paragraph>
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<poem>
<poem>
This fear has reared cities:
This fear has reared cities:
The cowards flock together by the millions lest they should be left alone for a half hour...
The cowards flock together by the millions lest they  
::: should be left alone for a half hour...
With church, theater and school,
With church, theater and school,
With office, mill and motor,
With office, mill and motor,
With a thousand cunning devices, and clever calls to each other,
With a thousand cunning devices, and clever calls to  
::: each other,
They escape from themselves to the crowd...
They escape from themselves to the crowd...
</poem>
</poem>
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Oh, I have loved it all:
Oh, I have loved it all:
Snug rooms, the talk, the pleasant feast, the pictures:
Snug rooms, the talk, the pleasant feast, the pictures:
The warm bath of humanity in which I relaxed and soaked myself:
The warm bath of humanity in which I relaxed and  
And never, I hope, shall I be without it—at times...
::: soaked myself:
And never, I hope, shall I be without it&mdash;at times...
</poem>
</poem>
</paragraph>
</paragraph>
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<poem>
<poem>
But now myself calls me...
But now myself calls me...
The skies demand me, though it is but ten in the morning:
The skies demand me, though it is but ten in the  
The earth has an appointment with me, not to be broken...
::: morning:
I must accustom myself to the gaunt face of the Sub-time...
The earth has an appointment with me, not to be  
::: broken...
I must accustom myself to the gaunt face of the Sub-
::: time...
I must see what I really am, and what I am for,
I must see what I really am, and what I am for,
And what this city is for, and the Earth and the stars in their hurry...
And what this city is for, and the Earth and the stars  
::: in their hurry...
</poem>
</poem>
</paragraph>
</paragraph>
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To invent a new breakfast food,
To invent a new breakfast food,
To devise a dance that was never danced until now,
To devise a dance that was never danced until now,
To urge a new sanitation, and a swifter automobile—
To urge a new sanitation, and a swifter automobile&mdash;
Have the life-surging heavens no business but this?
Have the life-surging heavens no business but this?
</poem>
</poem>

Latest revision as of 16:06, 16 July 2024

Bibliographic Information
Author Oppenheim, James
Genre Poetry
Journal or Book Songs for the New Age
Publisher The Century Co.
Year of Publication 1914
Pages 7-8
Additional information -


Why did you hate to be by yourself,
And why were you sick of your own company?


Such the question, and this the answer:


I feared sublimity:
I was a little afraid of God:
Silence and space terrified me, bringing the thought of
what an irritable clod I was and how soon death
would gulp me down...


This fear has reared cities:
The cowards flock together by the millions lest they
should be left alone for a half hour...
With church, theater and school,
With office, mill and motor,
With a thousand cunning devices, and clever calls to
each other,
They escape from themselves to the crowd...

urbancarenginetechnology


Oh, I have loved it all:
Snug rooms, the talk, the pleasant feast, the pictures:
The warm bath of humanity in which I relaxed and
soaked myself:
And never, I hope, shall I be without it—at times...


But now myself calls me...
The skies demand me, though it is but ten in the
morning:
The earth has an appointment with me, not to be
broken...
I must accustom myself to the gaunt face of the Sub-
time...
I must see what I really am, and what I am for,
And what this city is for, and the Earth and the stars
in their hurry...


To turn out typewriters,
To invent a new breakfast food,
To devise a dance that was never danced until now,
To urge a new sanitation, and a swifter automobile—
Have the life-surging heavens no business but this?

cartechnology