Poems by Masters

One day I hope to write a seemingly simple poem that so effectively conveys a universal truth. But for now, I’ll enjoy the masters.

Nothing that is can pause or stay;

The moon will wax,

The moon will wane,

The mist and cloud will turn to rain,

The rain to mist and cloud again,

Tomorrow be today.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I’m trying to accept this incontrovertible fact with more grace and compassion.  It’s not easy. I recognize I’ve spent far too much time seeking to control the uncontrollable.  While I recognize this truth…I don’t like it much yet.

The poem below more closely reflects a sense of despair I can relate to.  How insensitive the world seems to our individual heartbreak.

Break, Break, Break


Break, break, break,
         On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
         The thoughts that arise in me.
O, well for the fisherman’s boy,
         That he shouts with his sister at play!
O, well for the sailor lad,
         That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And the stately ships go on
         To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
         And the sound of a voice that is still!
Break, break, break
         At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
         Will never come back to me.

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