April is National Poetry Month. It was inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996 and has continued on for every April thereafter. It is a time when schools, publishers, libraries, booksellers, and poets throughout the United States celebrate poetry and the place it holds in American culture. Each year my blogging friend, Christy, celebrates this month on her blog 'Gathering Around the Table' by posting poetry that speaks to her heart. Today I am joining her in this quest.
Four days
Her petals furled
Gainst chilling wind and rain.
Came sun and rose disclosed her heart
Purr gold
Emma Berthelot
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;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
William Wordworth
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of
strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something
infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature— the assurance
that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.
Rachel Carson
The photo is of Sally, who is poetry in a picture.
Four days
Her petals furled
Gainst chilling wind and rain.
Came sun and rose disclosed her heart
Purr gold
Emma Berthelot
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;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
William Wordworth
Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of
strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something
infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature— the assurance
that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.
Rachel Carson
The photo is of Sally, who is poetry in a picture.
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