Picture from NYTimes.com
When the sickness comes
So early in spring,
Forlorn it becomes
The clime of sweet thing.
The wind blows the day,
And the thread shall tear,
But vows will not sway
Nor love cease the care.
Picture from immortalmuse.com
LET me serenade you to-night
Until the break of morning bright,
Though the moon is low, and full its beams,
And soft is thy kiss and love that teems.
WHEN your lips were damp like mine in the fields,
When the earth smiled in purples and goodly greens,
When apples and plums, graced the age of light,
When mighty waters filled the river-bank,
When crickets and ‘hoppers babbled in the wind,
When humming-birds echoed from shore to shore.
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.
Here's an excerpt:
A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 300 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 5 trips to carry that many people.
Picture from igalleries.com
A poem written after reading Shakespeare’s sonnet
WHEN I do wake up to gentle wind
And hear too low a wild bird sing
So true lies autumn all designed
And the twilight that is changing.
’tis the time of the lowing sun
When the boiling rays no more burn,
’tis the season of the dimming bright
When sweet melons and apples delight.
A sweet time, a shade of days gone
A soft prelude to winter’s dawn.