Capturing all that isn’t blue,
The sky, extending out of view,
Pitches over the gathered green,
Its grassy sheen
Draped, reflected, along the hills,
While quietly its wideness spills
Wider, as if its breadth defined
The limit of the viewer’s mind,
As if it flew
In chase of its reflected hues,
Whether robed in red or washed in gold,
Colored by what it cannot hold.
The extented rhyme across lines 2, 4, 6 and 8 of each stanza is beautifully Spenserian in its musicality. Yours…
Probably the most fictive element in the poem is the "belle dame sans merci" cliche applied to Clara. She and…
I love everything about this ode - the chosen form, the mellifluous flow, and the message. The poem's brilliance lies…
Susan, this great send up of all Earth-worshippers reminds me of one of the funniest videos of all time. I…
Gorgeous, Margaret, absolutely gorgeous. Your "blossoms affably exchange affection" reminded me of Wordsworth's daffodils enjoying the air they breathe, and…
