By Eric Le Roy

Aubade by Louis MacNeice
Having bitten on life like a sharp apple
Or, playing it like a fish, been happy,
Having felt with fingers that the sky is blue,
What have we after that to look forward to?
Not the twilight of the gods but a precise dawn
of sallow and grey bricks, and newsboys crying war.
Content 18+ Years ago my generation was … Read the rest
