Posts filed under ‘.nature’

A Light Exists In Spring

by Emily Dickinson

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March 21, 2017 at 5:25 am Leave a comment

Pumpkin Feeder

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November 17, 2016 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

OCTOBER GOES

by Virna Sheard

The Ballad of the Quest, Carry On!

October goes, and its colors all pass:
At dawn there’s a silver film on the grass,
And the reeds are shining as pipes of glass,
But yesterweek where the cloud waves rolled
Down a wind-swept sky that was grey, and cold,
Sailed the hunter’s moon,—a galleon of gold!
And now in the very depth of the night
It is just a little flame, blown and white,
Or a broken-winged moth on a weary flight.
But the steadfast trees at the forest rim,
And the pines in places scented and dim,
Still wait for one hunter, and watch for him.
And the wind in the branches whispers, “Why?”
And the yellow leaves that go rustling by,
Say only, “Remember,” and sigh,—and sigh.

October 1, 2016 at 3:02 pm Leave a comment

The Strolltroll

The Strolltroll (Norw: Rallskanken) – a Children’s Book
strolltroll

September 14, 2016 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

June

by Virna Sheard

The Ballad of the Quest

Now by every meadow-side the buttercups blow—
(O June, you are spendthrift of your gold!)
Green are the uplands where the little lambs go,
Green and glad the forests that are old.
Once again the summer weaves on her magic loom,
Cloth of clover,—fairy web of wheat;—
Only Mary’s alabaster box of perfume
Ever made the passing wind more sweet.
Even through the city where the dusty roads run,
Blue runs now the river to the sea.
Tender is the twilight when the long day is done,—
Infinite the stars’ tranquillity.
Not forever are the rains or the winter snows,
All these past—nor shall be overlong,—
And with every lovely June cometh the rose,
The sweet blue dusk,—a night-bird’s wonder-song!

June 1, 2016 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Flowers Are Red

by Harry Chapin

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April 26, 2016 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

April

by Virna Sheard

April! April! April!
With a mist of green on the trees–
And a scent of the warm brown broken earth
On every wandering breeze;
What, though thou be changeful,
Though thy gold turns to grey again,
There’s a robin out yonder singing,
Singing in the rain.

April! April! April!
‘Tis the Northland hath longed for thee,
She hath gazed toward the South with aching eyes
Full long and patiently.
Come now–tell us, sweeting,
Thou laggard so lovely and late,
Dost know there’s no joy like the joy that comes
When hearts have learned to wait?

April 20, 2016 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

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