“The sky drips its spectral And Gods, like men, to soot revert.Gone is the mild, the serene air.The golden years are come too late.Pursue not wisdom or virtue here,But what blind motion, what dim lastRegret of men who slew their pastRaised up this bribe against their fate.”

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About Donald Davidson (poet)

Donald Davidson (poet) is quoted here; further biographical details are not publicly available.

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