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Skribent: Simon
Emne: Re: Poetisk fryd..
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P.s.:
Nogen ville formentlig sige, at enhver nutid bør vende blikket mod dets fremtid, andre, at fremtiden nogen søger, får mange til at se tilbage i ønsket om at gense kvaliteten i poesien og malerier man engang evnede at skabe - og meget apropos er Wordsworth, silly old sheep, igen stået op:
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That has kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
- Wordsworth, sidste strofe fra Ode – Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.
mvh
Simon
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