ON POETRY … Thomas Carlyle
“In ancient and in modern times we find a few Poets who are accounted perfect; whom it were a kind of treason to find fault with. This is noteworthy, this is right: yet in strictness it is only an illusion. At bottom, clearly enough, there is no perfect Poet! A vein of poetry exists in the hearts of all men; no man is made altogether of Poetry. We are all poets when we read a poem well.”
Above is one of my own photographs.
This particular one is of a sunset on Loch Earn in Scotland.
Below – one of my earliest verses – composed long ago – in my youth.
I saw her briefly in a week of ease
And tender, lonely looks of longing.
Of unfulfilled despairing hurt,
Of happy, hopeful love.
Leaving with promise of reunion
And pledges of a life-long trust.
Memory lasts but not the present.
History gives the lie to love.