Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

History

William Carlos Williams

THIS sarcophagus contained the body

Of Uresh-Nai, priestess to the goddess Mut,

Mother of All—

The priestess has passed into her tomb.

The stone has taken up her spirit!

Granite over flesh: who will deny

Its advantages?

Your death?—water

Spilled upon the ground—

Though water will mount again into rose-leaves—

But you?—would hold life still,

Even as a memory, when it is over.

Benevolence is rare.

Climb about this sarcophagus, read

What is writ for you in these figures,

Hard as the granite that has held them

With so soft a hand the while

Your own flesh has been fifty times

Through the guts of oxen—read!

“The rose-tree will have its donor

Even though he give stingily.

The gift of some endures

Ten years, the gift of some twenty,

And the gift of some for the time a

Great house rots and is torn down.

Some give for a thousand years to men of

One country, some for a thousand

To all men, and some few to all men

While granite holds an edge against

The weather.
“Judge then of love!”

“My flesh is turned to stone. I

Have endured my summer. The flurry

Of falling petals is ended. I was

Well desired and fully caressed

By many lovers, but my flesh

Withered swiftly and my heart was

Never satisfied. Lay your hands

Upon the granite as a lover lays his

Hand upon the thigh and upon the

Round breasts of her who is

Beside him; for now I will not wither,

Now I have thrown off secrecy, now

I have walked naked into the street,

Now I have scattered my heavy beauty

In the open market.

“Here I am with head high and a

Burning heart eagerly awaiting

Your caresses, whoever it may be,

For granite is not harder than

My love is open, runs loose among you!

“I arrogant against death! I

Who have endured! I worn against

The years!”