|Twenty-three believes that life may perish.|
What would any lover do but save it?
Each moment is an act of desperation,
Nor can one plead the beauty of sensation,
Though there is much good grace in those who crave it.
Yet now one must sustain what one would cherish.
There's nothing for it but to live one's anguish,
Having made one's life a sign, and wave it
Relentlessly, till one becomes a nation,
Embracing all who'll face despair and brave it,
Even as the rest their world relinquish.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon