Lease Out No Pity
Lease out no pity for the rusted iron,
For Argo crumbling, wheels flung out of date,
Those helpless conquerors wild poppies spy on,
Mantling dark silk about their fallen state.
Sharp-springing from their own and natural force
The green spears wound the giant’s crevices . . .
Grieve not for that which yields without remorse
Foothold for seeds and hiving-place for bees.
Think how they dream, that moved from no volition
Self-chosen, but by hot and restless breath
Of swarming lordships — pride and pain, ambition,
And crowded aims that lacked the space of death.
The spent wheels spinning, doomed ships driven faster
By those that recked not shoals, harsh brows and blind —
Even so shall soul disdain the petty master,
Idle, shall mock the vexings of the mind.