Know That However Ugly The Parts Appear

There Is No Reason For Amazement: Surely One Always Knew That Cultures Decay, And Life's End Is Death.

Know That However Ugly The Parts Appear The Whole Remains Beautiful... ... The Wholeness Of Life And Things, The Divine Beauty Of The Universe. Love That, Not Man Apart From That, Or Else You Will Share Man's Pitiful Confusions, Or Drown In Despair When His Days Darken.

When The Sun Shouts And People Abound One Thinks There Were The Ages Of Stone And The Age Of Bronze And The Iron Age; Iron The Unstable Metal; Steel Made Of Iron, Unstable As His Mother; The Tow-ered-up Cities Will Be Stains Of Rust On Mounds Of Plaster. Roots Will Not Pierce The Heaps For A Time, Kind Rains Will Cure Them, Then Nothing Will Remain Of The Iron Age And All These People But A Thigh-bone Or So, A Poem Stuck In The World's Thought, Splinters Of Glass In The Rubbish Dumps, A Concrete Dam Far Off In The Mountain.

The Cold Passion For Truth Hunts In No Pack.

The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are Beautiful Beyond All Grace Of Youth.