But then You archangels and hot Promethean seed Each time I thought of making the confession To some delighted spirit, ranged yourselves In thought around my sick bed, with contempt, Or pained compassion written on your brows, And words like these: He has deserted us, He has surrendered, cringed before the gods. And so my sacrifice is this: You’ll be The first to know my second birth, you can In such case never charge it up to fear, Or weakness, shrunken nerves, or spirit That lost the human touch through the effects Of some delirium. What mind so clear, Or will so strong to die with this denial For your sakes? For it may be best for you To live the rebel out of you. And if You thought--at least I fear it--if you thought I had gone over to the hosts you hate, As you are now, through weakness, made my peace With heaven, as you’d call it, just to save My wretched self, you’d have a mad regret, A fine disgust to work through, added labor To all you must achieve. That’s why I die, And seal this message. Break it on the day They make me ashes! BOMBYX Sealed in a cocoon-cradle of white silk, Locked fast in sleep; Or bound for years as a chrysalid, while the neap Creative tides rise to the spring and slough The torn strands and the golden pupa stuff, You tear wings free for the connubial flight-- Break suddenly the embryo trance, drift off, Whole troops of you in a looped and colorful clutter Wobbling like leaves in a fresh wind’s delight. And over clover meadows in a flutter, Or through sweet scented hollows, You seek the expectant mate, And the mad moment where life turns to death, And both become one essence and one breath, One undivided fate. Together you fly Drunken with life, yet mad to die, Since soul achievement is death after all, All rivals for the wedding festival. Yet only one of you can win the prize; The rest shall sink exhausted in defeat, While the triumphant bridegroom dies In his own rapture and creative fire-- All perish in the flame of their desire. For none of you is given strength to live Beyond the quest, or the hymeneal kiss; The disappointed perish One wins his joy, but may not keep or cherish The moment which contains it, sudden doom Falls on the winner of his bliss And on the wings that quiver their frustration.