Friday, March 1, 2013

March in Cold Injustice

Suddenly I saw the cold 
and rook-delighting Heaven
That seemed as though ice burned 
and was but the more ice,
And thereupon imagination 
and heart were driven
So wild that every casual thought of that and this
Vanished, and left but memories, 
that should be out of season

With the hot blood of youth, 
of love crossed long ago;
And I took all the blame out of all sense
 and reason,
Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,
Riddled with light.
Ah! when the ghost begins to quicken,
Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent
Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken
By the injustice of the skies for punishment?  

W.B. Yeats Cold Heaven

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