i am switching between books right now. i started' the orestian trilogy' by aeschylus and moved on to' the aeneid' by virgil and found i wasn't in the mood for tragedy- so i moved on to yeats ;) he tends towards flowery and it's tough reading- so, i moved on to wordsworth.
yeah- i know. old style poetry is tough to read. but i feel i must in this case because 1) it's nice to focus on real language for a change and not twitterspeak and 2) i have a 1904 cambridge student's edition of his complete works. yep. snagged it on amazon for a song. it smells like an old book. :) love it.
1904- way before isbn and whatnot- so, the cover on the sidebar isn't accurate. not even close :)
loved this line:
In thoughtless gaity I coursed the plain,
And hope itself was all I knew of pain;
For then, the inexperienced heart would beat
At times, while young Content forsook her
seat,
And wild Impatience, pointing upward,
showed,
Through passes yet unreached, a brighter
road.
mmmm.... autumn and poetry tend to go hand in hand :)
autumn showers drench
colored leaves that tumble down
creating carpets
best i could do- having yummy comfort chili :)
2 comments:
Your poetry reminds me of the phone conversations I had with my mother and daughter.
Mom lives in Michigan; she said that overnight the wind came up and dumped the leaves onto the ground like snow, and she awoke to a brightly colored lawn.
My daughter said they'd had a nightly wind (she lives in Ohio), and that in the morning she found the yard covered with a blanket of leaves; she's sending me pictures.
So, a blanket; a carpet - or a mosaic of color, it all works.
Diane
"a 1904 cambridge student's edition of his complete works."
I'm a wee bit jealous...
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