Bald heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love's despair
To flatter beauty's ignorant ear.
All shuffle there; all cough in ink;
All wear the carpet with their shoes;
All think what other people think;
All know the man their neighbour knows.
Lord, what would they say
Did their Catullus walk that way
--W.B. Yeats
I have staked a lot on not buying into this distinction. But the scholars make it hard, man. Maybe W.B.Y. had it right after all.
2 comments:
You know who loved this poem, don't you? That silly man from my distant past. I don't know what's going on with you, but don't lose your ideals!
Scholars suck. You'll be the one and only cool scholar.
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