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what i am looking for? something to let me see through the bullshits that the news and books and persons are piling on and to know and live my life truely. respiciendo prospiciendo looking forward looking back poem by wildred: to one who would make a confession Oh! leave the past to bury its own dead. The past is naught to us, the present all. What need of last year's leaves to strew Love's bed? What need of ghosts to grace a festival? I would not, if I could, those days recall, Those days not ours. For us the feast is spread. The lamps are lit, and music plays withal. Then let us love and leave the rest unsaid. This island is our home. Around it roar Great gulfs and oceans, channels, straits and seas. What matter in what wreck we reached the shore, So we both reached it? We can mock at these. Oh! leave the past, if past indeed there be; I would not know it; I would know but thee. poem by wilfred: On the shortness of time If I could live without the thought of death, Forgetful of Time's waste, the soul's decay, I would not ask for other joy than breath, With light and sound of birds and the sun's ray. I could sit on untroubled day by day Watching the grass grow, and the wild flowers range From blue to yellow and from red to grey In natural sequence as the seasons change. I could afford to wait, but for the hurt Of this dull tick of time which chides my ear. But now I dare not sit with loins ungirt And staff unlifted, for death stands too near. I must be up and doing -- ay, each minute. The grave gives time for rest when we are in it. poem by wilfred A prison is a convent without God. Poverty, Chastity, Obedience Its precepts are. In this austere abode None gather wealth of pleasure or of pence. Woman’s light wit, the heart’s concupiscence Are banished here. At the least warder’s nod Thy neck shall bend in mute subservience. Nor yet for virtue – rather for the rod. links lost past remembered ...