We never tire of this dance because, unlike the mountain, we trust in a more reliable thing than either the seasonable birds or the crumbling mountain.
Tag: Poet
Poetry: Shakespeare – Sonnet 146
For once death is dead, swallowed up in Christ's victory, "there's no more dying then."
Poetry: Stevens – Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
Of memory, laughter, and the following blackbird.
Poetry: Donne – A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning
"Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like th' other foot, obliquely run; Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun."
Poetry: Burns – A Red, Red Rose
Robert Burns was a character. One of my favorite of the Romantic poets, he took romanticism a little too seriously than was appropriate. And though he did eventually settle down, I tend to find poems like "A Red, Red Rose" somewhat ironic. "As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,So deep in luve am I;And I …
Madelyn Rose Craig 