Poetry

One of the finer poems of the 20th century is T. S. Eliot’s Ash Wednesday. Starting today, I hope to post excerpts of the poem. It offers many good topics to consider during Lent.

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?