As withereth the primrose by the river,
As fadeth summer’s sun from gliding fountains,
As vanisheth the light-blown bubble ever,
As melteth snow upon the mossy mountains:
So melts, so vanishes, so fades, so withers
The rose, the shine, the bubble and the snow
Of praise, pomp, glory, joy – which short life gathers –
Fair praise, vain pomp, sweet glory, brittle joy.
The withered primrose by the mourning river,
The faded summer’s sun from weeping fountains,
The … Read More
AG: We’re way off the subject. ..which was.. there was a really great poem I wanted to lay out, which I put out, by Henry King, (which is like the “Palinode“.) – We’ll get back to this (the “Palinode”) – I mean, has anybody got some heavy thing that they want to continue it on?
Edmund Bolton’s “Palinode” (on page two-seventy), which sets forth a great theme that recurs through all English poetry and also a great logical way of handling the theme – and I would like it because it’s … Read More