Contemplation would make a good life, keep it strict, only <br />The eyes of a desert skull drinking the sun, <br />Too intense for flesh, lonely <br />Exultations of white bone; <br />Pure action would make a good life, let it be sharp- <br />Set between the throat and the knife. <br />A man who knows death by heart <br />Is the man for that life. <br />In pleasant peace and security <br />How suddenly the soul in a man begins to die. <br />He shall look up above the stalled oxen <br />Envying the cruel falcon, <br />And dig under the straw for a stone <br />To bruise himself on. <br />562<br /><br />Robinson Jeffers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-cruel-falcon/
