Читать книгу The Dark Flood Rises - Margaret Drabble - Страница 6

Piecemeal the body dies, and the timid soul

has her footing washed away, as the dark flood rises.

D. H. Lawrence, ‘The Ship of Death’

THROUGH winter-time we call on spring,

And through the spring on summer call,

And when abounding hedges ring

Declare that winter’s best of all;

And after that there’s nothing good

Because the spring-time has not come –

Nor know that what disturbs our blood

Is but its longing for the tomb.

W. B. Yeats, ‘The Wheel’