For One Who Gayly Sowed His Oats
My days were a thing for me to live, For others to deplore; I took of life all it could give: Rind, inner fruit, and core.
Countee Cullen
My days were a thing for me to live, For others to deplore; I took of life all it could give: Rind, inner fruit, and core.
Countee Cullen’s four-line piece sounds like a proud, defiant epitaph for a man who lived only for his own appetites. The old phrase “sowing his wild oats” sets up a life of pleasure and recklessness, and the speaker doesn’t apologize for it.
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