Thursday, October 21, 2010

Too much love of living?

From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be
That no life lives for ever ;
That dead men rise up never ;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.

Then star nor sun shall waken,
Nor any change of light :
Nor sound of waters shaken,
Nor any sound or sight :
Nor wintry leaves nor vernal,
Nor days nor things diurnal ;
Only the sleep eternal
In an eternal night.

(the closing lines of)
The Garden of Proserpine- Algernon Charles Swinburne
Sophie's "most beautiful poem ever written".

Gerald is fine, thin and beautiful.


1 comment:

  1. Thank you Lois, for this and the previous post. I like it when you put up poems - especially not being a great poetry man, it's great to have such evocative pieces chosen. And, yes, it's good to have those words of detail on Gerald, bringing home to me how it is in the daily reality for you all.
    love, Richard