Sep 13, 2023
"There are others not so sour, Who find on every thorn a flower " – William Henry Dawson
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"There are others not so sour, Who find on every thorn a flower " – William Henry Dawson
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“It was cold and barren. It was no longer the view that I remembered. The sunshine of his presence was far from me. The charm of his voice no longer murmured in my ear.” ― Wilkie Collins
“Every lake belongs to the quietness desired by the swans.” ― Munia Khan
O Me! O Life!
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring, Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish, Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?) Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d, Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me, Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined, The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists and identity, That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. By Walt Whitman
Wood Dove
When morn in breaking When the sun is rising over dark, blue hills, When mists go by I hear a voice say Coo . . . coo . . .
It is Mistress Wood Dove Hidden and alone, Glad of morning. I call, She answers: Morning is sweeter For her voice. by Hilda Conklin
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How Emily Dickinson Makes Black Cake
When Emily wasn’t writing poems she was baking in mammoth quantities. Her recipe called for something like twenty – no, thirty eggs all separated and beaten; sacks of sugar, cakes of butter. When Emily wasn’t writing poems she was entertaining crowds of friends and neighbors with her mammoth quantities of baked goods. Perhaps it was her defense against criticism. Keep those verse tucked away on scribbled scraps of paper in books next to recipes and grocery lists. Instead, sweeten the world around her with mammoth quantities of delicious baked goods and witty conversation about the weather and all those friends and neighbors indulging in Emily’s cakes. by Jennifer Dotson
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