Saturday, January 21, 2006


Painting by Moritz von Schwind, Early Morning, 1858

What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

Poem by Philip Larkin

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