hello! this is what auden's tombstone reads: In the prison of his days/ Teach the free man how to praise.
this italics thing is going crazy. only if i italic everything the words appear upright. huh. today's a vague gray vanguard sheet that i need to pencil in. the last part is youth service, but til now and then.. i;m just drifting along. pointlessly?
The roses with the west wind rapping
Are torn away, and a splash
Of red goes down the billowing air.
a lovely excerpt from DH Lawrence's Love Storm. kinda corny title though, i must say.
lit's perfect for this sorta roamy listless feeling.. cos they can put things into words so succinctly, without all the frissles. not that i really experience what they're professing in verse, ah at least they can articulate what i never could if i did.
But when your countenance filled up his line,Then lacked I matter; that enfeebled mine.-86. shakespeare.
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