As to Being Alone: Difference between revisions
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<paragraph keywords=""> | <paragraph keywords=""> | ||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
Why did you hate to be by yourself, | |||
And why were you sick of your own company? | And why were you sick of your own company? | ||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
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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 | Silence and space terrified me, bringing the thought of what an irritable clod I was and how soon death would gulp me down... | ||
what an irritable clod I was and how soon death | |||
would gulp me down... | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
</paragraph> | </paragraph> | ||
<paragraph keywords="car, technology | <paragraph keywords="urban, car, engine, technology"> | ||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
This fear has reared cities: | This fear has reared cities: | ||
The cowards flock together by the millions lest they | The cowards flock together by the millions lest they should be left alone for a half hour... | ||
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 | With a thousand cunning devices, and clever calls to each other, | ||
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 | The warm bath of humanity in which I relaxed and soaked myself: | ||
soaked myself: | And never, I hope, shall I be without it—at times... | ||
And never, I hope, shall I be without it—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 | The skies demand me, though it is but ten in the morning: | ||
morning: | The earth has an appointment with me, not to be broken... | ||
The earth has an appointment with me, not to be | I must accustom myself to the gaunt face of the Sub-time... | ||
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 | And what this city is for, and the Earth and the stars in their hurry... | ||
in their hurry... | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
</paragraph> | </paragraph> | ||
<paragraph keywords="car"> | <paragraph keywords="car, technology"> | ||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
To turn out typewriters, | To turn out typewriters, | ||
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 | To urge a new sanitation, and a swifter automobile— | ||
Have the life-surging heavens no business but this? | Have the life-surging heavens no business but this? | ||
</poem> | </poem> |
Revision as of 14:30, 1 July 2024
Author | Oppenheim, James |
---|---|
Genre | Poetry |
Journal or Book | Songs for the New Era |
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...
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?