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clss97's review against another edition
3.0
Finally some historic poems which are more than love, with so much worth, and written by a woman! Just made my day entirely and I just feel the need to place this gem high up on the shelf next to Virgina Woolf right now and forever!
-
Though from our open eyes 'tis hidden
Our purpose is distinct and clear
-
O days we ponder left alone,
Like children in their secret hour,
and in our secrets keep our own
as seeds the colour of the flower.
...---...
Of the dying and the birth
Of the people of the earth
No, not sad; we were beguiled
sad with living as we are;
Ours the sorrow, outpouring
Sad self on a selfless thing,
As our eyes and hearts are mild
With our sympathy for spring,
With a pity sweet and wild
For the innocent and far,
With our sadness in a star
Or our sadness in a child
---
in my thought i see you stand with a path on
either hand,
- hills that look into the sun, and there a river'd
meadow land.
And your lost voice with the things that it
decreed across me thrills,
when you thought,
and chose the hills.
^a poet to childhood
-
Though from our open eyes 'tis hidden
Our purpose is distinct and clear
-
O days we ponder left alone,
Like children in their secret hour,
and in our secrets keep our own
as seeds the colour of the flower.
...---...
Of the dying and the birth
Of the people of the earth
No, not sad; we were beguiled
sad with living as we are;
Ours the sorrow, outpouring
Sad self on a selfless thing,
As our eyes and hearts are mild
With our sympathy for spring,
With a pity sweet and wild
For the innocent and far,
With our sadness in a star
Or our sadness in a child
---
in my thought i see you stand with a path on
either hand,
- hills that look into the sun, and there a river'd
meadow land.
And your lost voice with the things that it
decreed across me thrills,
when you thought,
and chose the hills.
^a poet to childhood
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