Edwin Arlington Robinson Quotes
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The gods are growing old;The stars are singing Golden hair to grayGreen leaf to yellow leaf,-or chlorophylTo xanthophyl, to be more scientific.
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A thousand golden sheaves were lying there,Shining and still, but not for long to stay-As if a thousand girls with golden hairMight rise from where they slept and go away.
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You have madeThe cement of your churches out of tearsAnd ashes, and the fabric will not stand.
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Your Dollar is your only Word,The wrath of it your only fear.You build it altars tall enoughTo make you see, but your are blind;You cannot leave it long enoughTo look before you or behind.
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I shall have more to say when I am dead.
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No matter what we are, and what we sing,Time finds a withered leaf in every laurel
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Are we no greater than the noise we makeAlong one blind atomic pilgrimageWhereon by crass chance billeted we goBecause our brains and bones and cartilageWill have it so?
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He was himself and he had lost the speedHe started with, and he was left behind.