Poetry!
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud Wordsworth is wandering alone when he stumbles onto something beautiful. A walk, a field of daffodils, and a memory that keeps giving. I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o’er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud · Wordsworth Read More »
Pour something warm. Keats wrote this after a quiet autumn walk, and it reads like one: unhurried, golden, and full of small details. 1.Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;To bend with apples the
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,And often is his gold complexion dimm’d,And every fair from fair sometime declines,By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:But
