Posted by zeugma on February 7, 2005, at 14:24:11
In reply to Re: Musee des Beaux Arts » Susan47, posted by alexandra_k on February 6, 2005, at 19:05:20
But in the evening the oppression lifted;
The peaks drifted into focus; it had rained;
Across the lawns and cultured flowers drifted
The conversation of the highly trained.The gardeners watched them pass and priced their shoes;
A chaffeur waited, reading in the drive,
For them to finish their exchange of views;
It seemed a picture of the private life.Far off, no matter what good they intended,
The armies waited for a verbal error
With all the instruments for causing pain:And on the issue of their charm depended
A land laid waste, with all its young men slain,
The women weeping, and the towns in terror."In Time of war," sonnet XIX.
Auden, so ominious and true.
-z
poster:zeugma
thread:452970
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20050118/msgs/454398.html