As dust that drives, as straws that blow,
Into the night go one and all. |
Far in the stillness a cat
Languishes loudly. |
Fate's a fiddler, Life's a dance. |
In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced nor cried aloud: Under the bludgeoning of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed. |
In the quiet eve
I am loitering, longing, dreaming . . . Dreaming, and a distant organ Pipes me ditties. |
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul |
Life is (I think) a blunder and a shame. |
Madam, Life's a piece in bloom death goes dogging everywhere: She's the tenant of the room he's the ruffian on the stair. |
Night with her train of stars / And her great gift of sleep. |
O, it's die we must, but it's live we can,
And the marvel of earth and sun Is all for the joy of woman and man And the longing that makes them one. |
Open your heart and take us in,
Love -- love and me. |
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. |
Pointed criticism, if accurate, often gives the artist an inner sense of relief. |
So be my passing!
My task accomplished and the long day done, My wages taken, and in my heart Some late lark singing, Let me be gathered to the quiet west, The sundown splendid and serene, Death. |
The criticism that damages is that which disparages, dismisses, ridicules, or condemns. |