<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=402948" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Living</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Slow bleak awakening from the morning dream <br>Brings me in contact with the sudden day. <br>I am alive – this I. <br>I let my fingers move along my body. <br>Realization warns them, and my nerves <br>Prepare their rapid messages and signals. <br>While Memory begins recording, coding, <br>Repeating; all the time Imagination <br>Mutters: You'll only die. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here's a new day. O Pendulum move slowly! <br>My usual clothes are waiting on their peg. <br>I am alive – this I. <br>And in a moment Habit, like a crane, <br>Will bow its neck and dip its pulleyed cable, <br>Gathering me, my body, and our garment, <br>And swing me forth, oblivious of my question, <br>Into the daylight – why? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I think of all the others who awaken, <br>And wonder if they go to meet the morning <br>More valiantly than I; <br>Nor asking of this Day they will be living: <br>What have I done that I should be alive? <br>O, can I not forget that I am living? <br>How shall I reconcile the two conditions: <br>Living, and yet – to die? <br> <br>Between the curtains the autumnal sunlight <br>With lean and yellow finger points me out; <br>The clock moans: Why? Why? Why? <br>But suddenly, as if without a reason, <br>Heart, Brain, and Body, and Imagination <br>All gather in tumultuous joy together, <br>Running like children down the path of morning <br>To fields where they can play without a quarrel: <br>A country I'd forgotten, but remember, <br>And welcome with a cry. <br> <br>O cool glad pasture; living tree, tall corn, <br>Great cliff, or languid sloping sand, cold sea, <br>Waves; rivers curving; you, eternal flowers, <br>Give me content, while I can think of you: <br>Give me your living breath! <br>Back to your rampart, Death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Harold+Monro">Harold Monro</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=402948" data-title="Living de Harold Monro" data-description="Slow bleak awakening from the morning dream Brings me in contact with the sudden day. I am alive – this I. I let my fingers move along my body. Realization warns them, and my nerves Prepare their rapid messages and signals. While Memory be..."></div> </div> </div>

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