And I declare my faith:
I mock Plotinus' thought
And cry in Plato's 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.
12.12.2003
Good blog day. See Bemsha & the Sonnetarium in debate. I like this from Yeats:
Labels:
Mayhew,
microcosm,
resurrection,
Yeats
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