Saturday, 24. August 2002
Morning At Last: There In The Snow - Phillip Larkin
Morning at last: there in the snow Your small blunt footprints come and go. Night has left no more to show,
Not the candle, the half-drunk wine, Or touching joy; only this sign Of your life walking into mine.
But when they vanish with the rain What morning woke to will remain Whether as happiness or pain.
Big Book Of Poetry
... comment