22 September 2011

What Are Years?
by Marianne Moore

What is our innocence,
what is our guilt? All are
naked, none is safe. And whence
is courage: the unanswered question,
the resolute doubt, --
dumbly calling, deafly listening--that
in misfortune, even death,
encourages others
and in its defeat, stirs

the soul to be strong? He
sees deep and is glad, who
accedes to mortality
and in his imprisonment rises
upon himself as
the sea in a chasm, struggling to be
free and unable to be,
in its surrendering
finds its continuing.

So he who strongly feels,
behaves. The very bird,
grown taller as he sings, steels
his form straight up. Though he is captive,
his mighty singing
says, satisfaction is a lowly
thing, how pure a thing is joy.
This is mortality,
this is eternity.


Sean Jeating said...


jams o donnell said...

You like, Sean?

SnoopyTheGoon said...

Good. Somewhat clashes, though, with that picture of your foot ;-)

jams o donnell said...

Ah the link within images can be a bit of a clash!

Sean Jeating said...

I do, Jams. Same goes for your photo sessions in Paris.

jams o donnell said...

Thanks Sean. Some of the Paris photos I think are among my best... if I say so myself

Syncopated Eyeball said...

Your Paris shots are exceptionally good, Jams.

jams o donnell said...

Thank you SE!

Claude said...

Yes! I agree with the comments.

jams o donnell said...

Thanks Claude!