From you have I been absent in the spring,When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him.Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smellOf different flowers in odour and in hue,Could make me any summer’s story tell,Or from their proud …
Yet as I saw it, I see it again, The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men, And as long as I live and where'er I may be, I'll always remember my town by the sea.
It is that time of year again when we gather with family and friends, celebrating the season's particular feasts and memories, and I find myself contemplative. It is somewhat interesting, and maybe a bit sad, that we call these last couple months of the year The Holiday Season. In reality, there are holidays, and Holy …
"The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never any more the dead."
Music, when soft voices die,Vibrates in the memory—Odours, when sweet violets sicken,Live within the sense they quicken.Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,Love itself shall slumber on. Considered a poetic fragment, I find these two verses by Shelley complete in their simplicity. Unlike …
Continue reading Poetry: Shelley – Music, When Soft Voices Die
Madelyn Rose Craig 