(Untitled)

[with_rainfall]

Aubade - Louis MacNeice

Having bitten on life like a sharp apple 
Or, playing it like a fish, been happy,

Having felt with fingers that the sky is blue, 
What have we after that to look forward to?

Not the twilight of the gods but a precise dawn 
of sallow and grey bricks, and newsboys crying war.

Comments

[moireach]

Oh wow, wonderful.

[with_rainfall]

:D I know, it's a lovely poem.