PALINODIA
I wrestled with my soul when twilight fowls
Began their rigadoon,
Where the lost cypress, like Ophelia, mourns
Above the gaunt lagoon.
Dumb with disaster, we did grapple on,
Like Ghibbeline and Guelph;
Though I could flee all other things beside,
I could not flee—myself.
Yes! I have pillaged the forbidden boughs
Of all their stealthy lore;
The fruit that shed its dust upon my lips
Was from Gomorrha’s shore.
Love! I will cleanse those lips at Siloe’s pool,
Incumbent to the sod;
I look upon my Past, as Pagan’s look
Upon their cloven god.
Love! will kneel at holier knees again,
With sin-abashing brow,
And learn a new Philosophy from Faith
To save me from the slough.
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