Saturday, 12 May 2007

Unable to Return

            Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But clouds instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank
Of Nature's works to me expung'd and raz'd,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

3 comments:

Osprey said...

I hope to see you again one day. There is still the matter of the play that holds so much promise in terms of joy and useful work

Young Geoffrion said...

Faithful Osprey, I would happily fulfil that promise if I could. When time relents, who seems a more charitable jailer to you than he has proved to me, I shall return to the play with all the joy and usefulness I possess.

Osprey said...

All shall fall into place given time.