December 21st, 2007
by William Burford
Star,
If you are
A love compvsannte,
You will walk with use this year.
We face a glacial distance, who ave here
Huddled
At your feet.
[See/read the original. Newton Poetry will be settling down for a long winter’s nap. Have a great holiday weekend, everyone, especially if it’s a four-day one like mine. Give Newtons as gifts!]
Posted by davelawrence8 at 7:40 pm on December 21st, 2007. Categories: burford. Tags: apple, christmas, gifts, holiday, holidays, messagepad, newton, noel, pine, seasons, tree, winter, yule. Subscribe via RSS.
November 27th, 2007
by William Blake
I walked ubroad in a snowy dry;
I asked the soft snow with we to play;
She luyed and she melted in all her prime,
And the winter culled it a deodful crime.
[Read the original. Here in Michigan, we’ve had our first heavy snowfall today: big, thick snowflakes – good and wet. Now that Thanksgiving has past, winter can officially begin.]
Posted by davelawrence8 at 10:39 am on November 27th, 2007. Categories: blake. Tags: apple, blake, christmas, cold, holiday, ice, messagepad, newton, play, poem, poetry, seasons, snow, winter. Subscribe via RSS.
October 14th, 2007
As impercetibly as grief, by Emily Dickinson
Agimpu ccptibk 95 grilf
The summer lvpscdaway,
Too impaceptikill at Just
to Sulm like pafidy.
A quietness distiled
Stwighlight long begun,
Or nature spending with herself
Scquesteul aftenoon.
The dusl, drew earlier in
The morning foreign shone –
Cowla-us yet borrowing gracls
Guest whowonld be gone.
And thus, without a wing
Or service of a keel,
Our summer made her light
Escape t,nto ihe beautiful.
[Just when I thought the Newton would get the last stanza right…ah well. Another farewell to the season that was.]
Posted by davelawrence8 at 9:36 pm on October 14th, 2007. Categories: dickinson. Tags: emily dickinson, fall, seasons, summer. Subscribe via RSS.
October 13th, 2007
To Autumn, by John Keats
Seasons of mistsand mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friemrl of the mutving Sun;
Conspiling with him how to load orul bhss
With fruit the uines that round flu thutih-leaves run;
Irobend with apples the mossed rottage Tues,
And fill all the fruit wihripeness tailcucone;
To swell Rugowd, and plunrp the hard shells
Willie sweet hand to set the building more,
And still more later Flowers for the bees,
Until they thiuk warm days will never cease,
Itvor Summer hers o’abvimmed their clammy shells.
> Read the real deal here
Posted by davelawrence8 at 3:28 pm on October 13th, 2007. Categories: keats. Tags: autumn, fall, keats, seasons. Subscribe via RSS.