For some reason I've been depressed today. Outwardly normal yet not at peace with myself. I doubt if anyone noticed anything amiss in my behaviour for I've gone about the business of daily life much as usual. Yet I continuously felt as if I were a ghost, outside my body, standing beside it and watching, bemused, as it went through the rigmarole of existence - a surreal, out-of-body experience. I'd mentioned Landor in my last post.Today, another of his poems kept coming to mind again and again. Was it a reminder of mortality - if any was needed ?
The leaves are falling; so am I;
The few late flowers have moisture in the eye;
So have I too.
Scarcely on any bough is heard
Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird
The whole wood through.
Winter may come : he brings but nigher
His circle ( yearly narrowing ) to the fire
Where old friends meet.
Let him; now Heaven is overcast
And spring and summer both are past,
And all things sweet.
-Walter Savage Landor
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