Thomas Merton
A RESPONSORY, 1948
Suppose the dead could crown their wit
With some intemperate exercise,
Spring wine from their ivory
Or roses from their eyes?
Or if the wise could understand
And the world without heart
That the dead are not yet dead
And that the living live apart
And the wounded are healing,
Though in a place of flame.
The sick in a great ship
Are riding. They are riding home.
Suppose the dead could crown their wit
With some intemperate exercise,
Spring wine from their ivory
Or roses from their eyes?
Two cities sailed together
For many thousand years.
And now they drift asunder.
The tides of new wars
Sweep the sad heavens,
Divide the massed stars,
The black and white universe
The booming sphere.<!.
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