Picture and book remain, An
acre of green grass For
air and exercise, Now
strength of body goes; Midnight,
an old house Where
nothing stirs but a mouse. My
temptation is quiet. Here
at life’s end Neither
loose imagination, Nor
the mill of the mind Consuming
its rag and bone, Can
make the truth known. Grant
me an old man’s frenzy, Myself
must I remake Till
I am Timon and Lear Or
that William Blake Who
beat upon the wall Till
Truth obeyed his call; A
mind Michael Angelo knew That
can pierce the clouds, Or
inspired by frenzy Shake
the dead in their shrouds; Forgotten
else by mankind, An old man’s eagle mind. |
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