On the gravestone of W.B. Yates, in a little Irish town called Drumcliff, is this quote.
"Cast a cold eye, on life, on death.
Horseman, pass by."
I was oddly moved by this. On the one hand, it seems almost cynical as if the very act of mourning is suspect. Don't bother, pass day.
But I sat there in the sun and thought. Maybe it's more about the limited time we have here and about letting it go when it's gone. Maybe, if Yates speaking directly and not in verse he would have said this.
"My time here is up. Please don't waste your life mourning mine. Mine is over. Walk on. Let me go. Pass by."
I like that better. What do you think it means?