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geron muses
Such ancient commonplaces as I shunned when young,
They rustle around me now, untended old olive trees,
With their roots driven so deep and wide, their branches so strong,
In winter storms they only gleam and sway at ease.
geron among the lit reviews
Though by our century's failing light
Our poets can't fi nd much to write,
They're safe enough, with our new breed
Of critics that can't learn to read.
geron's guidance
Seek truth -- slow truth, exacting truth -- with the
saintly Darwin, son, avoid
Orators and literary fellows such as Marx and Freud.
the two fields, where i used to live
Nothing lasts, and ... in that very fact lies some of
its glory; the sadness ... is really not so terrible.
-- isak dinesen
Where each oat tassel turns
in its own air
On its own white fi ber
well out from the stem --