charles mee

the (re)making project

The Plays

The Bacchae 2.1 [sample]

by Charles L. Mee

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When my happiness is given me,
life will be
a nameless thing.
It will seethe and roar;
it will plunge and whirl;
it will leap and shriek in convulsions;
it will quiver in delicate fantasy;
it will writhe and twist;
it will glitter and flash and shine;
it will sing gently;
it will shout in exquisite excitement;
it will vibrate to the roots
like a great oak in a storm;
it will dance;
it will glide;
it will gallop;
it will rush;
it will swell and surge;
it will fly;
it will soar high--high;
it will go down into depths unexplored;
it will rage and rave;
it will melt;
it will grovel in the dust of entire pleasure;
it will sound out like a terrific blare of trumpets;
it will chime faintly, faintly;
it will sob and grieve and weep;
it will revel and carouse;
it will go in pride;
it will lie prone like the dead;
it will float buoyantly on the air.
When it comes my turn to meet face to face the unspeakable vision
of the Happy Life I shall be rendered dumb.
But the rains of my feeling will come in torrents.

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