September, 1819
September, 1819
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer’s honey breath hold out
Against the wrackful siege of batt’ring days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
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for more info about the POP POET you can check:
http://www.katebush.com/https://www.canva.com/design/DAF2sbuX-5Q/FWpK9eC0TuR9PnUpLtycKw/edit?utm_content=DAF2sbuX-5Q&utm_campaign=designshare&utm_medium=link2&utm_source=sharebutton
pic: Cathédrale Notre-Dame September, 1819 By William Wordsworth Departing summer hath assumed An aspect tenderly illumed, The gentlest l...