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Updated: June 25, 2025
Impatient of delay, with reckless pace The rash maid wins the fatal spot where she Sinks not in lover's arms but death's embrace. So runs the strange tale, how the lovers twain One sword, one sepulchre, one memory, Slays, and entombs, and brings to life again.
That two lives will be snuffed out is nothing to the world calamity that entombs in the bowels of the earth the discoveries that I have made and proved in the successful construction of the thing that is now carrying us farther and farther toward the eternal central fires."
If half with death the germs may sleep, Yet half with life they share the beams; My heralds from the dreary deep, Soft voices from the solemn streams, Like her, so them, awhile entombs, Stern Orcus, in his dismal reign, Yet spring sends forth their tender blooms With such sweet messages again, To tell, how far from light above, Where only mournful shadows meet, Memory is still alive to love, And still the faithful heart can beat!
The abuse dies in a day; the denial slays the life of the people and entombs the hope of the race.
Impatient of delay, with reckless pace The rash maid wins the fatal spot where she Sinks not in lover's arms but death's embrace. So runs the strange tale, how the lovers twain One sword, one sepulchre, one memory, Slays, and entombs, and brings to life again.
"All that might comfort some people, but it falls on my ears and heart like the sound of the clods on Elsie's coffin. I have no religion, no faith, no hope, in time or eternity. My miserable past entombs all things." "Do not unearth your woes, let the grave seal them. Your life stands waiting to be sanctified, dedicated to Him who gave it. My dear friend,
That two lives will be snuffed out is nothing to the world calamity that entombs in the bowels of the earth the discoveries that I have made and proved in the successful construction of the thing that is now carrying us farther and farther toward the eternal central fires."
She opens a book and reads aloud while I take my ease, looking at the pastel portrait which hangs just opposite the window. On the glass which entombs the picture I see the gently moving and puffing reflection of the fidgety window curtains, and the face of that glazed portrait becomes blurred with broken streaks and all kinds of wave marks. "Ah, these adventures!"
"You think I care for the world? Then you read me wrongly at the very outset of our interview, and your once reputed skill as a Seer goes for naught! To me the world is a graveyard full of dead, worm-eaten things, and its supposititious Creator, whom you have so be praised in your orisons to-night, is the Sexton who entombs, and the Ghoul who devours his own hapless Creation!
Nay, nothing, indeed. It is, then, for the land that you care, the mere face of the country, because it entombs myriad ancestors, because it is familiar in its every aspect, because it overflows with abundant beauty.
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