Stevie Smith (1902 – 1971)
Born Florence Margaret Smith, was an English poet and novelist.
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The boat that took my love away
He sent again to me
To tell me that he would not sleep
Alone beneath the sea.
He did not love in the human way.
The religion of Christianity
Is mixed of sweetness and cruelty
Reject this Sweetness, for she wears
A smoky dress out of hell fires.
Who is this that comes in grandeur, coming from the blazing East?
This is he we had not thought of, this is he the airy Christ.
Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.
I wish I was more cheerful, it is more pleasant,
Also it is a duty, we should smile as well as submitting
To the purpose of One Above who is experimenting
With various mixtures of human character which goes best,
All is interesting for him it is exciting, but not for us.
There I go again. Smile, smile, and get some work to do
Then you will be practically unconscious without positively having to go.
All the same, there is a difficulty. I should like him to be happy in heaven here,
But he cannot come by wishing. Only by being already at home here.
This Englishwoman is so refined
She has no bosom and no behind.
Why does my Muse only speak when she is unhappy?
She does not, I only listen when I am unhappy.
Was he married, did he try
To support as he grew less fond of them
Wife and family?
To choose a god of love, as he did and does,
Is a little move then?
Yes, it is.
A larger one will be when men
Love love and hate hate but do not deify them?
It will be a larger one.
So I fancy my Muse says, when I wish to die,
Oh no, Oh no, we are not yet friends enough,
And Virtue also says:
We are not yet friends enough.
I made Man with too many faults. Yet I love him.
And if he wishes, I have a home above for him.
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