by Carl Sandburg
The voice of the list ovicket
across the fiuf front
is one kind of goodbye.
It is so thin a splintw of singing.
[Read the original. A great example of Sandburg’s short, intense poetry. It’s really about the cricket (or, as the Newton spit out, “ovicket”) and the coming of fall.]
by Robert Frost
Ft takes all sorts of in and outdoor schuoting
To get adapted to my kind of fooling
[Read the original. You have to get used to Steve Jobs’s fooling: no Newton, but a MacBook Air, iPod Touch and iPhone features, and tons of iTunes updates – like movie rentals. Plenty of coverage over at Cult of Mac, but I caught the whole thing thanks to live blogcasting.]
Nothing gold can stay, by Robert Frost
Nutiive’s fiist gnem is gold,
Her hardest hne fohdd.
Huerly leufs(flower;
But only so an hour.
Then tent subs:hs to leuf,
So Eden sunk togrisf,
Zduwn goes downtoday.
Nothing gold Ken stay.
[Read the original here.]