Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Will you comb gray hair?

From In Memory Of Major Robert Gregory by William Butler Yeats

Some burn damp faggots, others may consume
The entire combustible world in one small room
As though dried straw, and if we turn about
The bare chimney is gone black out
Because the work had finished in that flare.
Soldier, scholar, horseman, he,
As 'twere all life's epitome.
What made us dream that he could comb grey hair?

Probably most live as if we expect to "comb gray hair", but we know not what shall be tomorrow.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

To have the priviledge to grow old in a graceful manner is an honor not to be taken lightly. For as some would instigate means to mask the undeniable fact of growing old, we should rejoice and strive to be an even brighter light in a world of darkness.