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| Eric de Vree |
Now
The longed-for summer goes;
Dwindles away
To its last rose,
Its narrowest day.
No heaven-sweet air but must die;
Softlier float,
Breathe lingeringly
Its final note.
Oh, what dull truths to tell!
Now is the all-sufficing all
Wherein to love the lovely well,
Whate'er befall.
Walter de la Mare
For my son, who taught me this truth - Now is the time to love. To love in the imperfect now is an honour, for love is an immortal and all-surpassing art. Poems, paintings, songs, all these fade away - love cannot die.
