teeth, | Death and life were not | Till man made up the whole, | Made lock, stock and barrel | Out of his bitter
soul, | Aye, sun and moon and star, all, | And further add to that | That, being dead, we rise, | Dream and
so create | Translunar Paradise. | I have prepared my peace | With learned Italian things | And the proud
stones of Greece, | Poets imaginings | And memories of love, | Memories of the words of women, | All those
things whereof | Man makes a superhuman | Mirror-resembling dream. | | | | | As at the loophole there | The daws
chatter and scream, | And drop twigs layer upon layer. | When they have mounted up, | The mother bird will
rest | On their hollow top, | And so warm her wild nest. | | | | | I leave both faith and pride | To young upstanding
men | Climbing the mountain side, | That under bursting dawn | They may drop a fly; | Being of that metal
made | Till it was broken by | This sedentary trade. | | | | | Now shall I make my soul, | Compelling it to study | In
a learned school | Till the wreck of body, | Slow decay of blood, | Testy delirium | Or dull decrepitude, | Or
what worse evil come | The death of friends, or death | Of every brilliant eye | That made a catch in the
breath | Seem but the clouds of the sky | When the horizon fades; | Or a birds sleepy cry | Among the
deepening shades. | 1926 |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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