Stanzas from the Dead Poets Society
4/11/2025Sweet joy, but two days old,
The bright glance of pride and power, bold.
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances free among the daffodils.
In some melodious plot they play,
They have their exits and their stay.
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference- aye.
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he'd find at all.
Balls will be lost always, little boy,
And no one buys a ball back- nor joy.
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, yet holds its stance.
And still, we sleep, a dream so deep,
After all, isn't it Dead Poets we keep?
Where youth grows pale, and spectre- thin and dies,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, same taste, sans ties.
Sans everything- still haunted by the years,
By shadows shaped by hopes and fears.
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain- no twist of state
Can claim the soul I call my own,
For in this script, I stand alone.
The bright glance of pride and power, bold.
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances free among the daffodils.
In some melodious plot they play,
They have their exits and their stay.
I took the one less travelled by,
And that has made all the difference- aye.
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he'd find at all.
Balls will be lost always, little boy,
And no one buys a ball back- nor joy.
Under the bludgeonings of chance,
My head is bloody, yet holds its stance.
And still, we sleep, a dream so deep,
After all, isn't it Dead Poets we keep?
Where youth grows pale, and spectre- thin and dies,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, same taste, sans ties.
Sans everything- still haunted by the years,
By shadows shaped by hopes and fears.
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain- no twist of state
Can claim the soul I call my own,
For in this script, I stand alone.
Authors:
Editors:
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