An aged man is but a paltry thing
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress...
W.B.Yeats
The Tower (1928)
"Sailing to Byzantium"
sábado, 10 de fevereiro de 2007
Poesia porque sim II
Posted by Hugo Mendes at 17:23
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