The Ghost in the Machine by May Sarton

So you have made your peace with the machine; It is a masterly ingenious one, Resolving hard equations and serene, Through the long days of gifted, clear attention. Only pure music could give you the lie, Music, angelic silence--but not I. After the word “machine,” I became still, Living next day suspended on one thought, To sharpen spirit back, knit up the will To meet your courage, so steadfast and so caught. But only music, Mozartian and stable, Could make an answer now. I am not able. Words become heavy in a total dark, And who is strong enough to bear their weight? What you gave me was generous, though stark. That gift I learn--slowly--to contemplate. But only music at its most clear and noble, Could answer you with truth. I am not able. After that word, I lost the power to speak. I know even machines take loving care. Complex computers have been known to break: The ghost in the machine is always there. But I am silenced, because I am ashamed That here so little warmed, for all that flamed. From “The Silence Now: New and Uncollected Earlier Poems” (W. W. Norton: $14.95; 79 pp.). Sarton, 75, has published many books of poetry (including “Selected Poems, 1973”), fiction (“Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing” and “The Magnificent Spinster”) and nonfiction, including a series of personal journals. Copyright 1989 by May Sarton. Reprinted by permission of W. W. Norton.