TO MY INFANT DAUGHTER

Alas, that I should be
So old. amd you so small!
You will thnk naught of me
When your dire hours befall.

Take few men to your heart!
Unstable, fierce, unkind,
The ways that men impart.
True love is slow to find.

True art is slow to grow.
Like a belated friend,
It comes to let one know
Of what has had an end.


Yvor Winters (1900-1968)

American poet


V tozi sluchai, ako se ne laja: end = krai

Sine qua non