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Edwin Arlington Robinson - Recalled
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Long after there were none of them alive  
About the place—where there is now no place  
But a walled hole where fruitless vines embrace  
Their parent skeletons that yet survive  
In evil thorns—none of us could arrive
At a more cogent answer to their ways  
Than one old Isaac in his latter days  
Had humor or compassion to contrive.  
  
I mentioned them, and Isaac shook his head:  
“The Power that you call yours and I call mine
Extinguished in the last of them a line  
That Satan would have disinherited.  
When we are done with all but the Divine,  
We die.” And there was no more to be said.
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