The Suicide

"Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more!
  Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore!
  And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me,
  I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly
  That I might eat again, and met thy sneers
  With deprecations, and thy blows with tears,--
  Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away,
  As if spent passion were a holiday!
  And now I go.  Nor threat, nor easy vow
  Of tardy kindness can avail thee now
  With me, whence fear and faith alike are flown;
  Lonely I came, and I depart alone,
  And know not where nor unto whom I go;
  But that thou canst not follow me I know."

  Thus I to Life, and ceased; but through my brain
  My thought ran still, until I spake again:

  "Ah, but I go not as I came,--no trace
  Is mine to bear away of that old grace
  I brought!  I have been heated in thy fires,
  Bent by thy hands, fashioned to thy desires,
  Thy mark is on me!  I am not the same
  Nor ever more shall be, as when I came.
  Ashes am I of all that once I seemed.
  In me all's sunk that leapt, and all that dreamed
  Is wakeful for alarm,--oh, shame to thee,
  For the ill change that thou hast wrought in me,
  Who laugh no more nor lift my throat to sing!
  Ah, Life, I would have been a pleasant thing
  To have about the house when I was grown
  If thou hadst left my little joys alone!
  I asked of thee no favor save this one:
  That thou wouldst leave me playing in the sun!
  And this thou didst deny, calling my name
  Insistently, until I rose and came.
  I saw the sun no more.--It were not well
  So long on these unpleasant thoughts to dwell,
  Need I arise to-morrow and renew
  Again my hated tasks, but I am through
  With all things save my thoughts and this one night,
  So that in truth I seem already quite
  Free and remote from thee,--I feel no haste
  And no reluctance to depart; I taste
  Merely, with thoughtful mien, an unknown draught,
  That in a little while I shall have quaffed."

  Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled,
  Looking at nothing; and my thin dreams filed
  Before me one by one till once again
  I set new words unto an old refrain:

  "Treasures thou hast that never have been mine!
  Warm lights in many a secret chamber shine
  Of thy gaunt house, and gusts of song have blown
  Like blossoms out to me that sat alone!
  And I have waited well for thee to show
  If any share were mine,--and now I go!
  Nothing I leave, and if I naught attain
  I shall but come into mine own again!"
  Thus I to Life, and ceased, and spake no more,
  But turning, straightway, sought a certain door
  In the rear wall.  Heavy it was, and low
  And dark,--a way by which none e'er would go
  That other exit had, and never knock
  Was heard thereat,--bearing a curious lock
  Some chance had shown me fashioned faultily,
  Whereof Life held content the useless key,
  And great coarse hinges, thick and rough with rust,
  Whose sudden voice across a silence must,
  I knew, be harsh and horrible to hear,--
  A strange door, ugly like a dwarf.--So near
  I came I felt upon my feet the chill
  Of acid wind creeping across the sill.
  So stood longtime, till over me at last
  Came weariness, and all things other passed
  To make it room; the still night drifted deep
  Like snow about me, and I longed for sleep.

  But, suddenly, marking the morning hour,
  Bayed the deep-throated bell within the tower!
  Startled, I raised my head,--and with a shout
  Laid hold upon the latch,--and was without.

       *    *    *    *    *

  Ah, long-forgotten, well-remembered road,
  Leading me back unto my old abode,
  My father's house!  There in the night I came,
  And found them feasting, and all things the same
  As they had been before.  A splendour hung
  Upon the walls, and such sweet songs were sung
  As, echoing out of very long ago,
  Had called me from the house of Life, I know.
  So fair their raiment shone I looked in shame
  On the unlovely garb in which I came;
  Then straightway at my hesitancy mocked:
  "It is my father's house!" I said and knocked;
  And the door opened.  To the shining crowd
  Tattered and dark I entered, like a cloud,
  Seeing no face but his; to him I crept,
  And "Father!" I cried, and clasped his knees, and wept.
  Ah, days of joy that followed!  All alone
  I wandered through the house.  My own, my own,
  My own to touch, my own to taste and smell,
  All I had lacked so long and loved so well!
  None shook me out of sleep, nor hushed my song,
  Nor called me in from the sunlight all day long.

  I know not when the wonder came to me
  Of what my father's business might be,
  And whither fared and on what errands bent
  The tall and gracious messengers he sent.
  Yet one day with no song from dawn till night
  Wondering, I sat, and watched them out of sight.
  And the next day I called; and on the third
  Asked them if I might go,--but no one heard.
  Then, sick with longing, I arose at last
  And went unto my father,--in that vast
  Chamber wherein he for so many years
  Has sat, surrounded by his charts and spheres.
  "Father," I said, "Father, I cannot play
  The harp that thou didst give me, and all day
  I sit in idleness, while to and fro
  About me thy serene, grave servants go;
  And I am weary of my lonely ease.
  Better a perilous journey overseas
  Away from thee, than this, the life I lead,
  To sit all day in the sunshine like a weed
  That grows to naught,--I love thee more than they
  Who serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way.
  Father, I beg of thee a little task
  To dignify my days,--'tis all I ask
  Forever, but forever, this denied,
  I perish."
            "Child," my father's voice replied,
  "All things thy fancy hath desired of me
  Thou hast received.  I have prepared for thee
  Within my house a spacious chamber, where
  Are delicate things to handle and to wear,
  And all these things are thine.  Dost thou love song?
  My minstrels shall attend thee all day long.
  Or sigh for flowers?  My fairest gardens stand
  Open as fields to thee on every hand.
  And all thy days this word shall hold the same:
  No pleasure shalt thou lack that thou shalt name.
  But as for tasks--" he smiled, and shook his head;
  "Thou hadst thy task, and laidst it by", he said.

        Edna St. Vincent Millay