And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! | 75 |
Smoothed by long fingers, | |
Asleep … tired … or it malingers, | |
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me. | |
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, | |
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? | 80 |
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, | 85 |
And in short, I was afraid. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" T.S. Eliot |
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Deferential, glad to be of use...
Labels:
Reading
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment