Georgian Poetry 1916-17 - Edited by Sir Edward Howard Marsh by Various
page 75 of 142 (52%)
page 75 of 142 (52%)
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I can't hear anything to-day, can you,
But, far and near: 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'? VIII The everlasting grass--how bright, how cool! The day has gone too suddenly, too soon. There's something white and shiny in that pool-- Throw in a stone, and you will hit the moon. Listen, the church-bell ringing! Do not say We must go back to-morrow to our work. We'll tell them we are dead: we died to-day. We're lazy. We're too happy. We will shirk. We're cows. We're kettles. We'll be anything Except the manikins of time and fear. We'll start away to-morrow wandering, And nobody will notice in a year.... Now the great sun is slipping under ground. Grip firmly!--How the earth is whirling round! IX Be staid; be careful; and be not too free. Temptation to enjoy your liberty May rise against you, break into a crime, And smash the habit of employing Time. It serves no purpose that the careful clock Mark the appointment, the officious train |
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