But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald] brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid
****
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Example
I have loved sections of poetry, lines of poetry, as I just mentioned. And that is all. Further understanding just aborts in me. I love these - have loved them from the first time I read Prufrock. But I don't care for much else in the poem.
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1 comment:
I'm a Robert Service, E. A. Poe kind of guy.
There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold;
do you know what "moil" means?
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