dimanche 23 octobre 2011

338



« Come let us mock at the great 

That had such burdens on the mind 

And toiled so hard and late 

To leave some monument behind, 

Nor thought of the levelling wind 
 

Come let us mock at the wise; 

With all those calendars whereon 

They fixed old aching eyes, 

They never saw how seasons run, 

And now but gape at the sun »