The Hidden stone ripens fast,
then laid bare like a turnip
can easily be cut out at last
but even then the danger isn't past.
That man lives best who's fain
to live half mad, half sane.
-- Flemish Poet Jan Van Stijevoort, 1524.
YESTERDAY, n. The infancy of youth, the youth of manhood, the entire
past of age.
But yesterday I should have thought me blest
To stand high-pinnacled upon the peak
Of middle life and look adown the bleak
And unfamiliar foreslope to the West,
Where solemn shadows all the land invest
And stilly voices, half-remembered, speak
Unfinished prophecy, and witch-fires freak
The haunted twilight of the Dark of Rest....