Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things...
Tuesday 5 October 2010
Without Excuse
To know what is right, and not to do it, is want of courage. (Confucius)
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