August 6, 1926 and “Legend of a Suicide”

Fri., 6   Another warm day. Iron my black dress & finish the ironing Dumas left. Can 4 qts. purple raspberries. Tuttle & I go to Burlington for a treatment.

 

I’m going to try to post poems regularly again. This is from the book Green Mountain Echoes, published in 1927. There are more poems from this book, and from other books, listed under “Poems” in the sidebar.

LEGEND OF THE SUICIDE

The Soul: . . .

“I am going on a journey

And leave you white and still . . .

You cannot move hand or foot

Except it be my will.

 

 

“I am tired of this prison. . . 

I am longing to be free!

I am going out to leave you,

A clod, to hamper me!”

 

 

The Body:

“No guide has come to pilot you,

Along you’ll always stray,

No place of rest will be waiting you

When I am laid away.

 

 

“You cannot hope that God will send

For you He has not called . . .

Some punishment will be meted you

From which I shrink appalled!”

 

The passion to kill was on her,

She slashed a fair white wrist,

The body in pain could only writhe,

It was powerless to resist.

 

Its struggles grew faint and fainter

At last it lay numbed and still . . .

The soul emerged from her casing,

Free to have her will.

 

Abysmal silence about her!

A couch stained dark with red!

The face that had been hers

White. . . still . . . and dead!

 

She beheld the bitter agony

On her stricken mother’s face,

Her father’s grief, her sister’s tears,

When they gathered in the place.

 

“Let me come back! Let me come back!

For the past let me atone!

Mad indeed was I, when I took

The life I thought my own!

 

She strove for power to comfort them,

But the gulf was wide and deep . . .

Forever lost to human loves

She could only watch them weep.

 

The crowd of shocked and pitying friends

That gathered round her bier

When the hampering Body was laid away,

Knew not that she was near.

 

They faded away, and left alone

She tried in vain to rise,

She longed to soar in azure deeps

Of unfathomed summer skies.

 

Her vaunted freedom then she knew . . .

For her sin she must atone!

Through endless days and eternal years

Must wander the earth alone!

 

Condemned to silence and solitude!

No lips to frame a prayer!

No touch of friendliness on earth!

A wind-tossed atom of air!

 

 

 

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This entry was posted in 1926 Ella's diary, DIARIES, Dumas, Frank Tuttle, From the H. Sheldon Museum, Green Mountain Echoes, PEOPLE, Poems and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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