Perché
I am the possessor and the possessed
I am of the unborn.
My kind have not yet come up on the earth.
Or—are they gone?
Am I then left, a memory of the dead?
Am I dream-wraith, a ghost of beauty fled?
I who possess and am possessed,
Am I born and dead?
Strange madness beset me.
Passing pageant-wise across my web of thought.
The red circlet of Narcissus gems my blood,—
And I brood on a golden reed.
Who doth possess me—I possess.
Yea, I am dead!
In the pale light from the grave
The Sisters weave:
Crimson—and green and golden thread
Upon Time's robe.
Frances Gregg's poem "Perché" was published in the 1916 Others anthology. To read this poem in a digitized version of this publication, follow the link(s) below: