[And with a pseudo-georgic flourish I sound my last post on this blog! And my first in quite a while… Think of it as a postscript of sorts to all the other posts, if you like.
Thank you to my followers, likers, commenters, browsers—all my visitors. Anyone looking for answers can simply consult the good book—Virgil’s Georgics. (Chapter and verse for the browsers: Bk IV, ll. 559–566.)
Ave atque vale!]
—Thus I sang the fields of change, the flocks of self,
While Tsar Trump thundered war across a continent,
Offering walls to willing men, treading the way
To white Olympus. I, Daniel, nursed by soft Hibernia,
Pursued the peaceful paths of poetry, scribbling
While Rome burned with rabid lust for better things
And worse. Now you, patiently listening, won’t you sing
The deep, besieging shade of your own being?