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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XVI
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HE ARGUES WITH HIS LIFE
 My life, what strange mad garments hast thou on,
 Now that I see thee truly and am wise!
 Thou wild, lost Proteus, strangling and undone!
 What shapes are these, what metamorphoses
 Of a god`s soul in pain? I hear thy cries
 And see thee writhe and take fantastic forms,
 And strike in blindness at the destinies
 And at thyself, and at thy brother worms.
 Ah, foolish worm, thou canst not change thy lot,
 And all like thee must perish `neath the sun.
 Why struggle with thy fellows? Nay, be kind,
 Kinder than these. Behold, the flower--pot
 Of fate is emptied out, and one by one
 The fisher takes you, and his hooks are blind.
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