She sweeps with many-colored brooms,
And leaves the shreds behind;
Oh, housewife in the evening west,
Come back, and dust the pond!
You dropped a purple ravelling in,
You dropped an amber thread;
And now you’ve littered all the East
With duds of emerald!
And still she plies her spotted brooms,
And still the aprons fly,
Till brooms fade softly into stars -
And then I come away.
Due to the overwhelming response to We Are Seven (and the fact that I wanted to post something today, but didn’t get around to writing it), I am moved to offer another favorite poem of mine, The Skeleton in Armor.
It is interesting to note this poem was inspired by the discovery of a remarkable skeleton in Massachusetts, in 1832. Regrettably, it probably wasn’t that of a Viking… Read more »
The other night, a friend mentioned a desire to write about “the beautiful things in the world”. The first thing which came to my mind, as I thought about it, was this poem, one of my favorites. Read more »
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