Monday, 15 August 2016

An explanation of sorts.

This epic poem by Tennison puts it far better than me. You may gather I am off again.

Ulysses.
.
I cannot rest from travel
I will drink life to the full
All times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me and alone
On shore and when through scudding drifts
The rainy Hyades vext the dim sea.
I am become a name
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known .
I am a part of all that I have met
Yet all experience is an arch where through gleams
That untraveled world, whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use
As though to breathe were life.
Life piled on life
Were all too little and of one to me
Little remains but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

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