Rilke
In a lonely chataeu
not long ago
somewhat of an exile
on the horse anent Pegasus
you rode, rather serious,
with seldom a smile
in landscapes of mood
that flashed and glowed
you strove for the truth
of importunate Youth.
Hard for the Poem you fought.
Now be at peace, adorn,
shimmering fruit
in a shapely blow,
the lyric pavilion.
Unruffled repose,
when duty is done
and off you shake,
each by each,
life's traveling shoes,
is beauty enough.
I was content to make
beside your grave
this little speech.
Robert Walser. Published in Prager Presse, January 4, 1927