Friday, 16 September 2011

Poems: Days

I'm ramming more poetry down your throats. You know you want it! This is another one which I love by the patron saint of grumpy librarians, Philip Larkin.




By Philip Larkin

What are days for?
Days are where we live.   
They come, they wake us   
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:   
Where can we live but days?

Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor   
In their long coats
Running over the fields.

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