Pages

Autumn poets sing

Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze
A few incisive Mornings A few Ascetic Eves Gone -- Mr. Bryant's "Golden Rod" And Mr. Thomson's "sheaves."
Still, is the bustle in the Brook Sealed are the spicy valves Mesmeric fingers softly touch The Eyes of many Elves Perhaps a squirrel may remain My sentiments to share Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind Thy windy will to bear!
Emily Dickinson

No comments:

Post a Comment

Donald Lev

This place is a place for grief. I do not remember walking here. I do not remember riding here. I may always have been here. I believ...