-
THE MYTHOS OF SAMUEL HUNTSMAN
- Wesleyan University Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
THE MYTHOS OF SAMUEL HUNTSMAN If I should round the corner quicklyOr suddenly turn my headI know I'd catch them preparing the scene, Painting a tree or hanging the moon, Arranging houses and streets exactly In the desperate game which is God's. For I have seen through their plausible liesThat of a uniform world, And cities existing beyond these hills, Or on rain-wet pampas ferocious bulls, A logic of morrows and yesterdays Or real seeds under this field. The surface is thin as a gilding of oil Upon an enormous lake Deep as infinity, void as a gas, On which they plant the lying rose To delude the sniffing child or the fool. But me they cannot expect To wink forever, never to turn And look at their empty stage Of space starless and planetless Where they swarm to cover some nakedness, A ravaged fruit tree perhaps, some sin That calls to me to judge. One question has to be wrestled down Before I smash this fa9ade: Are they worlds, these other men, Thomas or Roger, Like me, with their plague of conjurers Or but lesser dolls in the scene of one Who will deal alone with God? [16] ...