music, poetry

There is nothing to do with a day except live it


Shall a plate be broken? A new thing understood?
Shall we be lonely, and by love consoled?
What shall I whistle, splitting the kindling-wood?
    Shall the night-wind be cold?

How should I know? And even if we were fated
Hugely to suffer, grandly to endure,
It would not help at all to hear it all fore-stated
    In an overture.

There is nothing to do with a day except live it.
Let us have music again when the light dies
(Sullenly, or in glory) and we can give it
    Something to organize.

– Richard Wilbur, from his poem “C Minor,” in The Mind-Reader

Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s