I ha’ seen them ‘mid the clouds on the heather. ” ‘Tis the white stag, Fame, we’re a-hunting,
Lo! they pause not for love nor for sorrow,
Yet their eyes are as the eyes of a maid to her lover,
When the white hart breaks his cover
And the white wind breaks the morn.
Bid the world’s hounds come to horn!“
05 Nov
By Ahenobarbus. Posted November 5, 2007 at 10:42 am. Filed under Ezra Pound, The Nature. Permalink. Subscribe to this post’s comments.
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Kill it before it grows.
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The scholar maybe sure that he writes the tougher truth for the calluses on hispalms. They give firmness to the sentence. Indeed, the mind never makes a great and successful effort, without a corresponding energy of the body. We are often struck by the force and precision of style to which hard-working [...]
