SEE ALL TAGS & MOODS
Sent to the ice after white coats,
rough outfit slung on coiled rope belts,
they stooped to the slaughter: gaffed pups,
I was ready for a new experience.
All the old ones had burned out.
They lay in little ashy heaps along the roadside
1
In view of the fading animals
the proliferation of sewers and fears
For everyone
The swimmer's moment at the whirlpool comes,
But many at that moment will not say
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; —
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
They are all gone away,
The House is shut and still,
There is nothing more to say.
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
What if the sun comes out
And the new furrows do not look smeared?
This is April, and the sumach candles
That night your great guns, unawares,
Shook all our coffins as we lay,
And broke the chancel window-squares,
