The House

Here's a poem I fell in love with straight away. It sums up my attitude towards all things empirical and objective after being emmersed in it for the last three years.



Come and live, they said,
In the house of science
With its solid floor of sense,
Its tiled and timbered roof,
Its foursquare walls of proof.

But I chose instead
The house of poetry
Under its rowan tree,
Half ruin and half grave
With green grass like a wave,

Nettles and moss for bed,
And its people coming and going
Like seeds the wind might bring,
Like words in the wind's song,
Their tenancy not long.


David Sutton
From The Guardian