----- Original Message ----- From: "Rafael Martinez" <[email protected]> To: "'Cynthia Groopman'" <[email protected]> Sent: Saturday, January 31, 2009 12:44 PM Subject: Today's Poems
> January > Cold January comes in Winter's car, > Thick hung with icicles--its heavy wheels > Cumbered with clogging snow, which cracks and peels > With its least motion or concussive jar > 'Gainst hard hid ruts, or hewn trees buried far > In the heaped whiteness which awhile conceals > The green and pastoral earth. Old Christmas feels,-- > That well-fed and wine-reeling wassailer,-- > With all his feasts and fires, feels cold and shivers, > And the red runnel of his indolent blood > Creeps slow and curdled as a northern flood. > And lakes and winter-rills, impetuous rivers > And headlong cataracts, are in silence bound. > Like trammelled tigers lashed to th'unyielding ground. > --Cornelius Webb > > Today's Poem > An Adieu > Sorrow, quit me for a while! > Wintry days are over; > Hope again, with April smile, > Violets sows and clover. > Pleasure follows in her path, > Love itself flies after, > And the brook a music hath > Sweet as childhood's laughter. > Not a bird upon the bough > Can repress its rapture, > Not a bud that blossoms now > But doth beauty capture. > Sorrow, thou art Winter's mate, > Spring cannot regret thee; > Yet, ah, yet -- my friend of late -- > I shall not forget thee! > --Florence Earle Coates > > The Rain > I hear leaves drinking rain; > I hear rich leaves on top > Giving the poor beneath > Drop after drop; > 'Tis a sweet noise to hear > These green leaves drinking near. > And when the Sun comes out, > After this Rain shall stop, > A wondrous Light will fill > Each dark, round drop; > I hope the Sun shines bright; > 'Twill be a lovely sight. > --W.H. Davies > > The Garden > Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall > She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, > And she is dying piece-meal > of a sort of emotional anemia. > And round about there is a rabble > Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. > They shall inherit the earth. > In her is the end of breeding. > Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. > She would like some one to speak to her, > And is almost afraid that I > will commit that indiscretion. > --Ezra Pound > > > > --~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~ 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 -~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---
