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I never really liked my university. I used to bemoan the lack of choice in classes, the lack of community on campus, and the bongo music in the halls. Of course, now that I’m graduating, I’m hearing the drums. I’m have the epiphany that proves life is what you make it. Your choice makes a memory sweet or…repressed. In my last year of college I have created my own classes and built my own community. The day I used to beg for is coming quickly around the bend. Now I’m begging for some more time. Isn’t that always the way? I should have listened to Joni Mitchell more. Though Tennyson was reacting to perhaps a deeper life event than college graduation, this poem has been ringing in my mind lately.
Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
-The death of this chapter and the birth of my next chapter. Fitting, isn’t it?
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