“But I am old and you are young, And I speak a barbarous tongue.”
“To a Child Dancing in the Wind” by William Butler Yeats
<|> saw this poem on the site, and it ripped a tear in my warp, shredded edges rubbing each other, violently, volubly, saying be wary child,
for what we don’t tell the children well in advance of their sad discovery that the world is not the perfection and that good night moon story world is not as it purport does if it really exists,
and I am bitter that all warning asunder, inutile, wasted, going unbelieved till time is they must discover in their own pain, their own sorrow that our world and words, are imperfect, and that I am sordid saddened that there is little one can do to protect them, other than, speak in a barbarous tongue
”But I am old and you are young, And I speak a barbarous tongue.” Yeats