A Poem...

[Athan]

All people dream, but not equally.

Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their mind,

Wake in the morning to find that it was vanity.

 

But the dreamers of the day are dangerous people,

For they dream their dreams with open eyes,

And make them come true.

 

---D.H. Lawrence, "Dreams"

[kimly982]

It's not too late to celebrate April, National Poetry Month.

 

excerpt from T S Eliot: The Wasteland

(full text at www. bartlebys.com)

 

T.S. Eliot (1888–1965). The Waste Land. 1922.

 

The Waste Land

 

 

 

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

 

 

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering 5

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee

With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,

And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,

My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,

And I was frightened. He said, Marie, 15

Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.

In the mountains, there you feel free.

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.