Life,s Brief Candle

To-morrow , and to-morrow , and to-morrow,

Creeps in this pretty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death . Out , out ,
Brief candle! Life,s but a walking shadow,
A poor player , That struts and frets his
Hour upon the stage, And then is heard no
More; it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of
Sound and fury, Signiflying nothing.
 The Dead Crow

He saw a dead crow in a drain near the post office.

He saw an old man gasping for air and baby barely
to breathe in a crowded morning clinic.
This land is so rich.
Why shoud we suffer like this?

I want air for my grandchildren.

I want the namned fools to leave the forest alone.
I want trees to grow, the rivers run free,aad earth covered
with grass.
Let the politicians plan how we are may live with digranity,
now and alwas.
 The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now,and go to innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made.
Nine been-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes

Dropping slow,