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Georgian Poetry 1916-17 - Edited by Sir Edward Howard Marsh by Various
page 75 of 142 (52%)
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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