Why I Write

105 words

Why I Write

[1]I write because I could not bear the loss
Of all that makes this world worthwhile and grand:
Apollo, Odin, Vulcan, Perkanus,
Birch forests sprung from European land,
Marble arches, Doric columns, beer halls,
Vast castles perched upon the Thames and Rhine,
Blonde hair caught up in ringlets, Yuletide balls,
Maypoles, Shelley’s poems, Polish honey wine
In hive shaped bottles redolent of bees,
Van Gogh’s sunflowers in antique frames, beef
Wellington, cabbage rolls, bacon, blue cheese,
Saint George, King John, Hermanius. Belief
That such things — small or vast as each one might
Be — must not become lost . . . . is why I write.