The voice of the last cricket
across the first frost
is one kind of good-by.
It is so thin a splinter of singing.
--Carl Sandburg
across the first frost
is one kind of good-by.
It is so thin a splinter of singing.
--Carl Sandburg
2003-10-15
Rachel
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'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.
-- T.S. Eliot
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