The Crib
I sought immortality
Here and there—
I sent my rockets
Into the air:
I gave my name
A hostage to ink;
I dined a critic
And bought him drink.
I spurned the weariness
Of the flesh;
Denied fatigue
And began afresh—
If men knew all,
How they would laugh!
I even planned
My epitaph....
And then one night
When the dusk was thin
I heard the nursery
Rites begin:
I heard the tender
Soothings said
Over a crib, and
A small sweet head.
Then in a flash
It came to me
That there was my
Immortality!