Twenty minutes more or less.

poetry,

From “Vacillation”

My fiftieth year had come and gone,
I sat, a solitary man,
In a crowded London shop,
An open book and empty cup
On the marble table-top.
While on the shop and street I gazed
My body of a sudden blazed;
And twenty minutes more or less
It seemed, so great my happiness,
That I was blessed and could bless.

-W.B. Yeats

 

 

4 thoughts on “Twenty minutes more or less.”

  1. I very, very occasionally have that experience. It’s never related to anything specific — I could just be driving down the road — but I find myself thinking suddenly, “I’m happy.” I can’t say any blazing takes place, but it’s a quiet, satisfying experience.

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  3. Like shoreacres’s comment above, I too have experienced such occasions. It’s often not related to anything specific, but I realize in that moment “I’m happy.” And I try to savour it. For that joy moment is a most soul satisfying experience. I think it’s what we live for between times.

    Thank you, Gretchen, for sharing that lovely poem with us.

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