The Sin Of Hamlet

Delmore Schwartz

The horns in the harbor booming, vaguely,
Fog, forgotten, yesterday, conclusion,
Nostalgic, noising dim sorrow, calling
To sleep is it? I think so, and childhood,
Not the door opened and the stair descended,
The voice answered, the choice announced, the
Trigger touched in the sharp declaration!

And when it comes, escape is small; the door
Creaks; the worms of fear spread veins; the furtive
Fugitive, looking backward, sees his
Ghost in the mirror, his shameful eyes, his mouth diseased.

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• Delmore Schwartz : To Helen
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• Delmore Schwartz : What Is To Be Given
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• Sir Walter Scott : Answer

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• Delmore Schwartz : The Journey Of A Poem Compared To All The Sad Variety Of Travel
• Delmore Schwartz : The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me
• Delmore Schwartz : The Greatest Thing In North America
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• Delmore Schwartz : The Choir And Music Of Solitude And Silence
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• Delmore Schwartz : Spiders