HIS chosen comrades thought at school
He must grow a famous man;
He thought the same and lived by rule,
All his twenties crammed with toil;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
Everything he wrote was read,
After certain years he won
Sufficient money for his need,
Friends that have been friends indeed;
'What then?' sang Plato's ghost. ' What then?'
All his happier dreams came true --
A small old house, wife, daughter, son,
Grounds where plum and cabbage grew,
poets and Wits about him drew;
'What then.?' sang Plato's ghost. 'What then?'
The work is done,' grown old he thought,
'According to my boyish plan;
Let the fools rage, I swerved in naught,
Something to perfection brought';
But louder sang that ghost, 'What then?'
A seemingly very nervous rendition of this fine poem; far too static and monotone. The last line is the most powerful line, yet it is rendered no more differently than any other line. This reader needs exposure to raw, naked emotion! 5.5/10
That should be a colon not a semicolon you hooligan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
What must be says the one which no loom. For it is I that only wait for the red birds song shall be no thou naught. But if it shall be what then which all shall see. How far will ones ways take it to find ways in others we all shall seek. I come unto u William if u find what the boy found in his first man I shall se. The path that made this today.