though he had known every quantity
of life:
its short repose,
its indefinite strike; though
he had knowledge of the
indifferent span of evening and daylight
and the repetitious metaphysic of
sound and fury; though life
had been every superstitious quality
of sensate being, he,
with indifference, collected the
manifold days into folded gestures
and prayed God make merciful
the remaining hours