Sunday, April 18, 2010
Shall We Sally Forth For The Fabled Land
Shall we sally forth for the fabled land,
Against the siren in the musty haze
Where eyes look blind? There is no stave at hand
To guide us through that starless field or maze
But shapeless shades and a vacuous voice.
We peregrinate thus, waver in daze,
Now bawling, now deep-sighing for that choice.
How sweet if we can rest on Plato’s Bed,
Or luxuriate in that succulent quince
Redolent of that first spring- why, instead,
Being late, we are stuffed with hollow dreams!