Ms. Soli Dunston stylin' the butterflies.
As I maligned one of the great Robert poets yesterday, thought I'd try another one today. It does rhyme, but if read carefully, it doesn't set my teeth on edge. And yes, coinage is still being collected on the daily wanders.
Happiness Makes up in Height for What It Lacks in Length
Robert Frost
O stormy, stormy world,
The days you were not swirled
Around with mist and cloud,
Or wrapped as in a shroud,
And the sun's brilliant ball
Was not in part or all
Obscured from mortal view--
Were days so very few
I can but wonder whence
I get the lasting sense
Of so much warmth and light.
If my mistrust is right
It may be altogether
From one day's perfect weather,
When starting clear at dawn
The day swept clearly on
To finish clear at eve.
I verily believe
My fair impression may
Be all from that one day
No shadow crossed but our
As through its blazing flowers
We went from house to wood
For change of solitude.
blossoms on 19th
I don't mind this one -- the rhyme is subtle enough, if read properly. I love the blossom photos, though. Weird - it was freezing in London -- thank you, ash cloud -- but it had more trees in bud/bloom than here.
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