This time of year always reminds me of Andreas. When the weather is hot and muggy I remember the days in Clontarf when the kids had inflatable pools in the gardens. I also remember the nights, drinking beer on the deck, or shooting water pistols at each other over the hedge.
It was in Clontarf, probably around 1999, I was searching for something on my PC and Andreas saw I was using the Webcrawler browser. He nudged me aside and said, “here, there is this new search engine that is really good.”
It was Google.
I used it to find this poem.
Dirge without music; by Edna St. Vincent Millay
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
with lilies and with laurel they go but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
a formula, a phrase remains, but the best is lost.
The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
they are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.