EVERYTHING IN ONE PLACE
What will we do with the last pleasant day?
Shall it be known? Will we call it by name?
What gentle hill, turned to island or bay
Will host final warmth of sun’s last gentle flame?
A prayer profane if a loss we lament
To claim we exchanged our birthright for fuel
As setting sun sinks, there may rise the red thought
That guards and their arms are purchased with wealth
And now the last thing left to sell has been bought
No more can fortune give vouchsafe of health
You can follow @JuliusGoat.
Tip: mention @threader_app on a Twitter thread with the keyword “compile” to get a link to it.
Enjoy Threader? Sign up.
Threader is an independent project created by only two developers. The site gets 500,000+ visits a month and our iOS Twitter client was featured as an App of the Day by Apple. Running this space is expensive and time consuming. If you find Threader useful, please consider supporting us to make it a sustainable project.