Category: poetry

Nevermore…

    “Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

    Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

    Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

            Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Poetry Corner!

I AM THE SONG

I am the song that sings the bird.
I am the leaf that grows the land.
I am the tide that moves the moon.
I am the stream that halts the sand.
I am the cloud that drives the storm.
I am the earth that lights the sun.
I am the fire that strikes the stone.
I am the clay that shapes the hand.
I am the word that speaks the man.

Charles Causley

@ Harriet Wieder Regional Park…

Poem: The Lent Lily by A. E. Houseman

The Lent Lily

‘Tis spring; come out to ramble  
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble  
About the hollow ground  
The primroses are found.

And there’s the windflower chilly  
With all the winds at play,
And there’s the Lenten lily  
That has not long to stay  
And dies on Easter day.

And since till girls go maying  
You find the primrose still,
And find the windflower playing  
With every wind at will,  
But not the daffodil.

Bring baskets now, and sally  
Upon the spring’s array,
And bear from hill and valley  
The daffodil away  
That dies on Easter day.

A. E. Houseman

“Daffodowndilly”

Allow me to wax poetic with someone else’s words for a moment:

She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
“Winter is dead.”

A shout-out to A. A. Milne for the appropriate description. And no, this isn’t in my yard. None of our daffodils showed up this year.