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1882–1937

LAST CONFESSIONAL

John Drinkwater

For all ill words that I have spoken, For all clear moods that I have broken, For all despite and hasty breath, Forgive me, Love, forgive me, Death.

Death, master of the great assize, Love, falling now to memories, You two alone I need to prove, Forgive me, Death, forgive me, Love.

For every tenderness undone, For pride when holiness was none But only easy charity, O Death, be pardoner to me.

For stubborn thought that would not make Measure of love’ s thought for love’ s sake, But kept a sullen difference, Take, Love, this laggard penitence.

For cloudy words too vainly spent To prosper but in argument, When truth stood lonely at the gate, On your compassion, Death, I wait.

For all the beauty that escaped This foolish brain, unsung, unshaped, For wonder that was slow to move, Forgive me, Death, forgive me, Love.

For love that kept a secret cruse, For life defeated of its dues, This latest word of all my breath — Forgive me, Love, forgive me, Death.

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LAST CONFESSIONAL · John Drinkwater · Poetry Cove