July 24, 2009

We Talk of Taxes...

We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such as you are -- but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend
That flourish through neglect, and soon must send
Perfume too sweet upon us and overthrow
Out steady senses; how such matters go
We are aware, and how such matters end.
Yet shall be told no meager passion here;
With lovers such as we forevermore
Isolde drinks the draught, and Guinevere
Receives the Table's ruin through her door
Francesca, with the loud surf at her ear,
Lets fall the coloured book upon the floor.

Edna St. Vincent Millay