Читать книгу Hazards - Wilfrid Wilson Gibson - Страница 21

Table of Contents

When the fine metal of the brain

Has lost its virgin brilliance

And ringing keen resilience,

And, sleepy and brittle, cannot bear the strain

And sudden onrush of train after train

That life drives over it relentlessly

Again and yet again,

Till it may snap disastrously

At any instant—then comes Death, the ganger,

To tear us from the permanent way; and, cast

On the scrap-heap, we are free at last

Of the intolerable stress and clangour

Of traffic thundering down life’s thoroughfare:

And surely it is good to lie

Quietly rusting under the quiet sky,

Resolving gradually in sun and rain

Till we are one again

With our original element of air?