Philosophic Lyrics

He held abstractions very dear
And dreamed their dreamy atmosphere,
But he had nothing, naught had he,
Till he went back to reality!

He flew with Plato far and high,
Ideal zero in his eye,
But not a hero could he be
Till he went back to reality!

A nominalist he could have been,
Intrincisist—it was for him!
But he had nothing, naught had he,
Till he went back to reality!

Subjectivist–now that seemed best,
Make a world with mental zest,
But nothing certain he would be
Till he went back to reality!

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s