----- Original Message ----- From: Rafael Martinez To: 'Cynthia Groopman' Sent: Friday, November 07, 2008 10:42 PM Subject: Today's Poems
Memory My mind lets go a thousand things, Like dates of wars and deaths of kings, And yet recalls the very hour-- 'Twas noon by yonder village tower, And on the last blue noon in May-- The wind came briskly up this way, Crisping the brook beside the road; Then, pausing here, set down its load Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly Two petals from that wild-rose tree. --Thomas Bailey Aldrich November There is wind where the rose was, Cold rain where sweet grass was, And clouds like sheep Stream o'er the steep Gray skies where the lark was. Nought warm where your hand was, Nought gold where your hair was, But phantom, forlorn, Beneath the thorn, Your ghost where your face was. Cold wind where your voice was, Tears, tears where my heart was, And ever with me, Child, ever with me, Silence where hope was. --Walter de la Mare --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "Deaf-Blind Inspirational Life Group" group. To post to this group, send email to [email protected] To unsubscribe from this group, send email to [EMAIL PROTECTED] For more options, visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/DBILG?hl=en -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
