They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept, as I remembered, how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.
And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of grey ashes, long long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.
Occasionaly I find a poem that is so perfect and beautiful and inspiring I just have to share it. Time to include William Johnson Cory to my list of must read poets.
And speaking of amazing poetry. I'm in awe of Robert Browning's "Pippa Passes". It is the most incredible play I've ever read. I had never heard of it. Have you? If you've read it I'll take you out to coffee to discuss it. Seriously! anybody out there read poetry anymore?
1 comment:
... though William Johnson Cory didn't actually write this poem, he translated it from Greek- no less of a great feat.
Post a Comment