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The narrow bud opens her beauties to The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins; Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve, Till clust’ring Summer breaks forth into singing, And feather’d clouds strew flowers round her head.
“The spirits of the air live in the smells Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.” Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat, Then rose, girded himself, and o’er the bleak Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.
William Blake (1783)
perspective at the moment
I Solemnly Swear I Am Up To No Good
two brunette sisters busy with crafting, cooking, teaching, reading and living
Poetry, fiction, related articles and the tales of Moon
Ramblings from Wisconsin
For the Love of Words, Laughter, Inspiration (and the odd sexy split infinitive.)
WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR
VICEDOMINI OF THE WUP New Name, New Location! Welcome to our poetry corner, The Poets’ Corner NEW SITE! The name has been changed to (our) because it belongs to all of us who post! Sincerely hope you find the change easy and exciting to be here! Please feel free to post and comment your thoughts so we all can enjoy!
Musings, Human Understandings and Such...
'Living and Surviving Rheumatoid Arthritis'
website & blog