Love Is Not All
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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2 comments:
This one IS gorgeous.
Hey, I just noticed you rated our blog PG. I don't know how to feel about that---horrified that we aren't for the general public, or proud that we've been able to control ourselves not to get rated R
Hi Heather. Thanks for visiting.
Yes, it is lovely. I forgive it for rhyming. It a sonnet; it can't help itself.
About the ratings, I debated for a long time. Pretty much language (hell, crap, etc.) and bodily functions were the PG factors. Which, of course, means that my blog is PG too. Unless I decide to do a birth post sometime and then it'll end up being R. Birth's kind of like that.
I'm actually thinking about killing the ratings. The Bible would get an R rating (sex and violence). The Book of Mormon would too (violence). Ratings are kind of silly.
The only one who got a G was Ray, because his blog is strictly spiritual in nature.
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