of beauty, song, and flowers;
The come! the gladsome months that bring
thick leafiness to bowers.
Up, up, my heart! and walk abroad; fling cark
and care aside;
Seek silent hills, or rest thyself where peaceful
waters glide;
Or, underneath the shadow vast of patriarchal
tree,
Scan through its leaves the cloudless sky in rapt
tranquility.
(William Motherwell, fragment from the poem
"They Come! The Merry Summer Months")
No comments:
Post a Comment