Friday, December 19, 2008

This is either ironic or not.

I always liked this poem. As gloom descends over the world in an increasingly heavy cloak, I thought of it this morning.


by: Ernest Dowson

THEY are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for awhile, then closes
Within a dream.

1 comment:

Tore Claesson said...

It's not ironic. It's an insightful note on the human mind. I think.