Monday, May 27, 2013

Poetry Prayer #17

I saved the poem for the holiday. This is from T.S. Eliot's The Wasteland. It's just a tiny excerpt.

The Wasteland
by T.S. Eliot

V. What the Thunder Said

After the torch-light red on sweaty faces 
After the frosty silence in the gardens 
After the agony in stony places 
The shouting and the crying
Prison and place and reverberation 
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains 
He who was living is now dead 
We who were living are now dying 
With a little patience

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