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Sonnet 29

John Berryman

The cold rewards trail in, when the man is blind
They glitter round his tomb (no bivouac):
The Rue Fortunée is the Rue de Balzac,
The Bach-Gesellschaft girdles the world; unsigned,
The treaty rages freeing him to wind
Mankind about an icy finger. Pack
His laurel in, startle him with gimcrack
recognition.—But O do not remind
Of the hours of morning this indifferent man
When alone in a summery cloud he sweat and knew
She, she would not come, she would not come, now
Or all the lime-slow day...  Your artisan
And men's, I tarry alike for fame and you,
Not hoping, tame, tapping my warm blank brow.

Submitted by Holt

Added: 1 Mar 2004 | Last Read: 21 Oct 2018 1:47 AM | Viewed: 4422 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/9212/ | Viewed on 21 October 2018.
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