Thursday, November 17, 2011

On the 9th anniversary

As Yeats put it,
Some burn damp [firewood], others may consume
The entire combustible world in one small room
As though dried straw, and if we turn about
The bare chimney is gone black out
Because the work had finished in that flare.
Soldier, scholar, horseman, he,
As 'twere all life's epitome.
What made us dream that he could comb grey hair?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Think carefully before you post. I reserve the right to moderate any comments posted to my blog.