Poetry is mankind’s oldest literature to retain popularity with a bulldog grip for about 5000 years and the grip has suddenly slipped.
Poetry is mankind’s oldest literature to retain popularity with a bulldog grip for about 5000 years and the grip has suddenly slipped.
“Full well thou knowest, song, what grace I mean,
E’en as thou know’st the sunlight I have lost.
Thou knowest the way of it and know’st the sheen
About her brows where the rays are bound and crossed,
E’en as thou knowest joy and know’st joy’s bitter cost.
Thou know’st her grace in moving,
Thou dost her skill in loving,
Thou know’st what truth she proveth,
Thou knowest the heart she moveth,
O song where grief assoneth!”
Ezra Pound | “Ballata, Fragment”