'Beggar to Beggar Cried': After Thirty Years of Give and Take? MOTS!

'Time to put off the world and go somewhere

And find my health again in the sea air,'

Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,

'And make my soul before my pate is bare...'

Thirty years have come and gone, and Secret Aging Man said he's ready to try for another thirty, as long as I am. Okay, but promise me we will always take long walks together. This one happened earlier this week in Gulf Breeze at Shoreline Park South.

'And get a comfortable wife and house

To rid me of the devil in my shoes,'

Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,

'And the worse devil that is between my thighs.'

Daughter went along for the walk and spotted this mushroom-and-child before I did. I guess I was too engrossed in the man by my side to notice.

'And though I'd marry with a comely lass,
She need not be too comely--let it pass,'
Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,
'But there's a devil in a looking-glass.'

'Nor should she be too rich, because the rich

Are driven by wealth as beggars by the itch,'

Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,

'And cannot have a humorous happy speech.'

Buildings by the score have sprung up along Pensacola Beach in the last several years and continue to do so, as you can see by the presence of that massive crane. More and more high-rise behemoths now obscure whatever view of the Gulf the residents of Gulf Breeze might have had in years past--and maybe even some of that famous Breeze. Their solid, dearly-paid-for presence replaces those shifting sand dunes that once formed a barrier between the Gulf and the Sound. Some people might argue that it's better to rely on the protection of these new barriers along the horizon that are fixed in place, anchored to the bedrock by beams of steel and pillars of concrete. What do you think?

'And there I'll grow respected at my ease,

And hear amid the garden's nightly peace,'

Beggar to beggar cried, being frenzy-struck,

'The wind-blown clamour of the barnacle-geese.'

A poem, this one by W. B. Yeats, shared with you by two beggars. (And I do mean beggars. I put myself at the mercy of the copyright holder by sharing it here on the blog. It's not in the public domain yet so I hope I'm not in trouble here. I do tend to invite it, though. Can we say the poem has been shared for scholarly purposes?) I don't pretend to understand it fully, anymore than I understand how a shifting-sand-dune, give-and-take marriage can last for thirty years in this day and age. All I know is that I want More of the Same.