On Sun, 07 Nov 2004 20:13:29 -0600, Cyli
wrote:


Some of you may feel it's true for each other. It may fit your
political view. It may make the hopeful cynic in some smile or frown.

W. B. Yeats

Now all the truth is out,
Be secret and take defeat
From any brazen throat,
For how can you compete
Being honor bred, with one
Who, were it proved he lies,
Were neither shamed in is own
Nor in his neighbors' eyes?

Ordinarily I find Yeats to be a bit too much of bottom of the bottle
Irish self pitiful when I don't find him to be overly cynical and
brittle, but this bit of cynicism seemed right to me.

Any punctuation errors or spelling errors are my own. Any of grammar
are his, but of poetic necessity.

Cyli


To seek such warmth
within the phrase
the cynic doth provide.
Sets false hope
colliding with
the state of ROFFian divide.
Truth passes by
and lingers brief
to tantilize the few.
Of all the rest
who can say
if ever they find the clue.
To find it here
expects too much
of so limited a place.
Yet for all of those
who try and fail
can we deny a taste?
So in the end
so oft we take
the best that we can find.
And in the try
so friends are formed
this ether works to bind.

It ain't Yeats but it's the best cheap, Canuckistanni wine can
produce. (We had the expensive stuff earlier.)






Peter

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