It’s just not a great moment for poetry.
It’s just not a great moment for poetry.
“Love that is born of Time and comes and goes!
Love that doth hold all noble hearts in fief!
As red leaves follow where the wind hath flown,
So all men follow Love when Love is dead.
O Fate of Wind! O Wind that cannot spare,
But drivest out the Maid, and pourest lees
Of all thy crimson on the wold again,”
Ezra Pound | “Canzon: The Yearly Slain”