I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river Is a strong brown god-sullen, untamed and intractable.
The usual dog about the town is much inclined to play the clown.
The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.
Distracted from distraction by distraction
Poetry should help, not only to refine the language of the time, but to prevent it from changing too rapidly.
Ash on an old man's sleeve / Is all the ash the burnt roses leave, / Dust in the air suspended / Marks the place where a story ended.