Now days are dragon-ridden, the nightmare
Rides upon sleep: a drunken soldiery
Can leave the mother, murdered at her door,
To crawl in her own blood, and go scot-free;
The night can sweat with terror as before
We pieced our thoughts into philosophy,
And planned to bring the world under a rule,
Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.
-- Yeats, 1919 --
Rides upon sleep: a drunken soldiery
Can leave the mother, murdered at her door,
To crawl in her own blood, and go scot-free;
The night can sweat with terror as before
We pieced our thoughts into philosophy,
And planned to bring the world under a rule,
Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.
-- Yeats, 1919 --
I have no idea who took the photo, in case you were wondering. I just found it somewhere out on the series of tubes.
It's so damn nice I'm going to go pull weeds.
This cool summer does not suck, although it's making my tomatoes take forever to turn red.
And last night, thanks to my pal curly tracy's gift of a box of early girl tomatoes, I put up the first gallon and a half of salsa.
Only ten more gallons to go....
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