am 10.5.2002 22:25 Uhr schrieb Aidan Harman unter [log in to unmask]:
> Am I alone in feeling that the spate of OT postings on the death of Pim
> Fortuyn have little to offer by way of enlightenment and much by way of heat
> and bad manners?
> I cannot believe that Old Possum would have approved.
> 'Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children's children
> When the time of sorrow is come?
> They will take to the goat's path, and the fox's home,
> Fleeing from the foreign faces and the foreign swords."
> TSE: A Song for Simeon
> Aidan Harman
No, you are not alone, dear Aidan,
thank you for bringnig the poem to my attention -- I didn't know it, and it
has moved me.
Lord, the Roman Hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.
What a wonderful aura of meancholy in its beginning, vaguely conjuring up
images of Little Gidding I.
It's good to have you on the list!