No man hath dared to write this thing as yet,
And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great
At times pass athrough us,
And we are melted into them, and are not
Save reflexions of their souls.
Thus am I Dante for a space and am
One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief,
Or am such holy ones I may not write
Lest blasphemy be writ against my name;
This for an instant and the flame is gone.
‘Tis as in midmost us there glows a sphere
Translucent, molten gold, that is the “I”
And into this some form projects itself:
Christus, or John, or eke the Florentine;
And as the clear space is not if a form’s
Imposed thereon,
So cease we from all being for the time,
And these, the Masters of the Soul, live on.
No man hath dared to write this thing as yet,
And yet I know, how that the souls of all men great
At times pass athrough us,
And we are melted into them, and are not
The poet is saying we are mortal for souls are immortal.
I understand this as it follows:
The work of “all men great..the masters of the soul, LIVE ON”! The tradition always projects itself on the new. “The ‘I'”, the individuality of the poet is marked by his new view point, but also by the work of the previous….
This PoeM IIs VeRRy WeiRD…;)
We better get back to the year 2104, we may have to adjust to this new time line. By the way, should I inform these guys of the december tragedy of 2011. I cant honestly see any negative effects to preventing it.