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Even more poetry
Even more poetry I have a head full of it. Sometimes it leaks out. Tell me all things false are true, Bitter sweet, that fools are wise. I will not doubt nor question you, I am in the mood for lies. - Countee Cullen, Nocturne What is plucked will grow again. What is slain lives on. What is stolen will remain. What is gone is gone. What is seaborn dies on land. Soft is trod upon. What is given burns the hand. What is gone is gone. Here is there, and high is low. All may seem undone. What is true, no men know. What is gone is gone. Who has choices need not choose. We must, who have none. We can love, but what we lose - What is gone is gone. Peter S. Beagle |
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