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The Rivet in Grandfather’s Neck

by James Branch Cabell

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Part Seven Yoked

“We are as time moulds us, lacking wherewithal
  To shape out nobler fortunes or contend
  Against all-patient Fates, who may not mend
  The allotted pattern of things temporal
  Or alter it a jot or e’er let fall
  A single stitch thereof, until at last
  The web and its drear weavers be overcast
  And predetermined darkness swallow all.

“They have ordained for us a time to sing,
  A time to love, a time wherein to tire
  Of all spent songs and kisses; caroling
  Such elegies as buried dreams require,
  Love now departs, and leaves us shivering
  Beside the embers of a burned-out fire.”

PAUL VANDERHOFFEN. Egeria Answers.

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