The Pessimist's Song

 

You’ve got Jonathan Edwards Eyes.

The ones he had when his sight

was blinded by the light,

before his soul was plunged

into eternal darkness.

 

Some men are at peace not to have in their head

a grandiose plan,

or believe, we’re not dead when we’re

dead;

 

that our wits will stay sharp,

hard work’s not a cage,

that love conquers all

and the jaw won’t slacken,

the mood won’t darken,

the lungs won’t blacken

with age.

 

It is human to sing the pessimist’s song

when world-wonder has palled with each calendar turn

when the saucer-eyed grin of the blind optimist

begs us;

 

join in

concur

belong.

◄ Song for an unborn child (I never)

Men Can't Dance ►

Comments

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Harry O'Neill

Thu 19th Jul 2012 14:19


Just finished reading (for the first time)James Thomson`s `The City of Dreadful Night`.

After that - believe me - this cheered me up no end.

I like the way third bit runs and the way the `age` catches `cage` (and the bit in between of course)

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John Darwin

Tue 17th Jul 2012 08:18

A piece about faith, hope and belonging.

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