Tuesday, February 18, 2014

CCLXXXII


1 comment:

  1. The Wise

    Dead men are wisest, for they know
    How far the roots of flowers go,
    How long a seed must rot to grow.

    Dead men alone bear frost and rain
    On throbless heart and heatless brain,
    And feel no stir of joy or pain.

    Dead men alone are satiate;
    They sleep and dream and have no weight,
    To curb their rest, of love or hate.

    Strange, men should flee their company,
    Or think me strange who long to be
    Wrapped in their cool immunity.

    Countee Cullen

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