For most of us, there is only the unattended Moment, the moment in and out of time, The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight, The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply That it is not heard at all, but you are the music While the music lasts. *T.S. Eliot, line from The Dry Salvages, out of Four Quartets
T.S. Eliot
Between the Two World Wars
T.S. Eliot is another one of my favorite poets. The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock, perhaps, being one of the most haunting and beautiful poems I have ever read. He has a way of speaking that is lilting, and ominous at the same time. This morning, I read East Coker, one of the poems in … Continue reading Between the Two World Wars
