A Sonnet and a Skull

Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat: Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean, A merciful putting away of what has been. And this we know: Death is not Life effete, Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seen So marvelous things know well the end not yet. Victor and vanquished are a-one in death: Coward and brave: friend, foe. Ghosts do not say, "Come, what was your record when you drew breath?" But a big blot has hid each yesterday So poor, so manifestly incomplete. And your bright Promise, withered long and sped, Is touched; stirs, rises, opens and grows sweet And blossoms and is you, when you are dead. Charles Hamilton Sorley

Charles Hamilton Sorley had written to his mother early in the war discussing the work of another War Poet: "He is far too obsessed with his own sacrifice, regarding the going to war of himself (and others) as a highly intense, remarkable and sacrificial exploit, whereas it is merely the conduct demanded of him (and others) by the turn of circumstances, where non-compliance with this demand would have made life intolerable."

Rabbit Skull by Francine C. Schwieder Some friends at the ranch where I used to keep horses were moving a tack house and found the long dead remains of a rabbit. Before they could dispose of it I took the skull, brought it home, cleaned and bleached it, scanned it into Photoshop and made this memento mori.

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