Poems
Witter Bynner
If you have pity, pity me a little,For I had seen your pitiless lips and dared themAnd I deserve the pity given fools...Your mouth was passion but your eyes were love.Your mouth might soon consent to harshness, but your eyes,Your eyes would see me and be kind to me.I should not suffer, loving you.I should but carry the heroic pain of love.Wounds that might come from hardness of your heart,If I received them, I should heal, watching the everlasting pity of your eyes...If you have pity, pity me a little.I who had seen your cruelty and dared itAm stricken with it nowAnd have come through the streets in daylightAs though the daylight were the sound of laughterSurrounding and consuming me.I have put up my hands to ward it off,The heaviness of light that would not let me hideBut held me and looked leering in my face...For there has come a passer-by ....And you have come with him.I have no hatred for the passer-by, and none for you,But hatred only of my own humiliation,For I had challenged and been overthrown...If you have pity, pity me a little.For I who love lifeHave heard its mouth despise meAnd have seen its eyes, that had been kind, turn into stone.Wherefore I lack new strength, new laughter.And in the time before that strength is due,If you have pity, pity me a little.But if you have none—soon I shall have no need.For I who choose life,Shall receive my strength,And I shall come to you again, laughing with love...For my humiliation shall have been a rain,Its arms about me and its lips alive.And I shall walk in daylightAnd it shall be a singing waterfallSurrounding me and pouring over me.
If you have pity, pity me a little,For I had seen your pitiless lips and dared themAnd I deserve the pity given fools...Your mouth was passion but your eyes were love.Your mouth might soon consent to harshness, but your eyes,Your eyes would see me and be kind to me.I should not suffer, loving you.I should but carry the heroic pain of love.Wounds that might come from hardness of your heart,If I received them, I should heal, watching the everlasting pity of your eyes...If you have pity, pity me a little.I who had seen your cruelty and dared itAm stricken with it nowAnd have come through the streets in daylightAs though the daylight were the sound of laughterSurrounding and consuming me.I have put up my hands to ward it off,The heaviness of light that would not let me hideBut held me and looked leering in my face...For there has come a passer-by ....And you have come with him.I have no hatred for the passer-by, and none for you,But hatred only of my own humiliation,For I had challenged and been overthrown...If you have pity, pity me a little.For I who love lifeHave heard its mouth despise meAnd have seen its eyes, that had been kind, turn into stone.Wherefore I lack new strength, new laughter.And in the time before that strength is due,If you have pity, pity me a little.But if you have none—soon I shall have no need.For I who choose life,Shall receive my strength,And I shall come to you again, laughing with love...For my humiliation shall have been a rain,Its arms about me and its lips alive.And I shall walk in daylightAnd it shall be a singing waterfallSurrounding me and pouring over me.
If you have pity, pity me a little,For I had seen your pitiless lips and dared themAnd I deserve the pity given fools...Your mouth was passion but your eyes were love.Your mouth might soon consent to harshness, but your eyes,Your eyes would see me and be kind to me.I should not suffer, loving you.I should but carry the heroic pain of love.Wounds that might come from hardness of your heart,If I received them, I should heal, watching the everlasting pity of your eyes...If you have pity, pity me a little.I who had seen your cruelty and dared itAm stricken with it nowAnd have come through the streets in daylightAs though the daylight were the sound of laughterSurrounding and consuming me.I have put up my hands to ward it off,The heaviness of light that would not let me hideBut held me and looked leering in my face...For there has come a passer-by ....And you have come with him.I have no hatred for the passer-by, and none for you,But hatred only of my own humiliation,For I had challenged and been overthrown...If you have pity, pity me a little.For I who love lifeHave heard its mouth despise meAnd have seen its eyes, that had been kind, turn into stone.Wherefore I lack new strength, new laughter.And in the time before that strength is due,If you have pity, pity me a little.But if you have none—soon I shall have no need.For I who choose life,Shall receive my strength,And I shall come to you again, laughing with love...For my humiliation shall have been a rain,Its arms about me and its lips alive.And I shall walk in daylightAnd it shall be a singing waterfallSurrounding me and pouring over me.
If you have pity, pity me a little,
For I had seen your pitiless lips and dared them
And I deserve the pity given fools...
Your mouth was passion but your eyes were love.
Your mouth might soon consent to harshness, but your eyes,
Your eyes would see me and be kind to me.
I should not suffer, loving you.
I should but carry the heroic pain of love.
Wounds that might come from hardness of your heart,
If I received them, I should heal, watching the everlasting pity of your eyes...
If you have pity, pity me a little.
I who had seen your cruelty and dared it
Am stricken with it now
And have come through the streets in daylight
As though the daylight were the sound of laughter
Surrounding and consuming me.
I have put up my hands to ward it off,
The heaviness of light that would not let me hide
But held me and looked leering in my face...
For there has come a passer-by ....
And you have come with him.
I have no hatred for the passer-by, and none for you,
But hatred only of my own humiliation,
For I had challenged and been overthrown...
If you have pity, pity me a little.
For I who love life
Have heard its mouth despise me
And have seen its eyes, that had been kind, turn into stone.
Wherefore I lack new strength, new laughter.
And in the time before that strength is due,
If you have pity, pity me a little.
But if you have none—soon I shall have no need.
For I who choose life,
Shall receive my strength,
And I shall come to you again, laughing with love...
For my humiliation shall have been a rain,
Its arms about me and its lips alive.
And I shall walk in daylight
And it shall be a singing waterfall
Surrounding me and pouring over me.
(In memory of Salvatore Garrito who was hanged at Reading, Pennsylvania, October 29, 1908, for the killing of a State Trooper.)
“It shows you on that paper where she lives,In Sicily. Write her that I todayAm dead for having killed my second man.”“Your second?” “Yes, sir, two. It’s not so badTo kill a trooper. But I killed, before,A friend who, like my brother and like me,Loved her in Sicily. The jury thoughtMy brother did it. He’s been all aloneIn jail eight years. Tell her I shall be gladIf now she gets him out and marries him.”
“It shows you on that paper where she lives,In Sicily. Write her that I todayAm dead for having killed my second man.”“Your second?” “Yes, sir, two. It’s not so badTo kill a trooper. But I killed, before,A friend who, like my brother and like me,Loved her in Sicily. The jury thoughtMy brother did it. He’s been all aloneIn jail eight years. Tell her I shall be gladIf now she gets him out and marries him.”
“It shows you on that paper where she lives,In Sicily. Write her that I todayAm dead for having killed my second man.”“Your second?” “Yes, sir, two. It’s not so badTo kill a trooper. But I killed, before,A friend who, like my brother and like me,Loved her in Sicily. The jury thoughtMy brother did it. He’s been all aloneIn jail eight years. Tell her I shall be gladIf now she gets him out and marries him.”
“It shows you on that paper where she lives,
In Sicily. Write her that I today
Am dead for having killed my second man.”
“Your second?” “Yes, sir, two. It’s not so bad
To kill a trooper. But I killed, before,
A friend who, like my brother and like me,
Loved her in Sicily. The jury thought
My brother did it. He’s been all alone
In jail eight years. Tell her I shall be glad
If now she gets him out and marries him.”
Truth heard him ask employAnd took him in,A poor unfriended boy,As her own kin,And everything she madeShe taught the youth.When he had learned her tradeHe went from Truth.And when his eyes were dimAnd he was rich,Then Truth returned to himOut of a ditch,Poorer than he had been,Pleading she came...He would not let her inNor ask her name.
Truth heard him ask employAnd took him in,A poor unfriended boy,As her own kin,And everything she madeShe taught the youth.When he had learned her tradeHe went from Truth.And when his eyes were dimAnd he was rich,Then Truth returned to himOut of a ditch,Poorer than he had been,Pleading she came...He would not let her inNor ask her name.
Truth heard him ask employAnd took him in,A poor unfriended boy,As her own kin,And everything she madeShe taught the youth.When he had learned her tradeHe went from Truth.
Truth heard him ask employ
And took him in,
A poor unfriended boy,
As her own kin,
And everything she made
She taught the youth.
When he had learned her trade
He went from Truth.
And when his eyes were dimAnd he was rich,Then Truth returned to himOut of a ditch,Poorer than he had been,Pleading she came...He would not let her inNor ask her name.
And when his eyes were dim
And he was rich,
Then Truth returned to him
Out of a ditch,
Poorer than he had been,
Pleading she came...
He would not let her in
Nor ask her name.
Shall marriage never be the gloryThat was wooed?But ever enervate and vex,Obstruct, intrude,And make more wistful and complexThe solitude,Trying to tell the human storyTo its brood?No matter how the homes are hummingIn a moodOf ecstasy or sentimentOr love renewed,What favored two can circumventThe ancient feud?—Till both in one shall die, becomingMultitude!
Shall marriage never be the gloryThat was wooed?But ever enervate and vex,Obstruct, intrude,And make more wistful and complexThe solitude,Trying to tell the human storyTo its brood?No matter how the homes are hummingIn a moodOf ecstasy or sentimentOr love renewed,What favored two can circumventThe ancient feud?—Till both in one shall die, becomingMultitude!
Shall marriage never be the gloryThat was wooed?But ever enervate and vex,Obstruct, intrude,And make more wistful and complexThe solitude,Trying to tell the human storyTo its brood?
Shall marriage never be the glory
That was wooed?
But ever enervate and vex,
Obstruct, intrude,
And make more wistful and complex
The solitude,
Trying to tell the human story
To its brood?
No matter how the homes are hummingIn a moodOf ecstasy or sentimentOr love renewed,What favored two can circumventThe ancient feud?—Till both in one shall die, becomingMultitude!
No matter how the homes are humming
In a mood
Of ecstasy or sentiment
Or love renewed,
What favored two can circumvent
The ancient feud?—
Till both in one shall die, becoming
Multitude!