A host of golden daffodils
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
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Children's voices in the orchard
Between the blossom- and the fruit-time:
Golden head, crimson head,
Between the green tip and the root.
Black wing, brown wing, hover over;
Twenty years and the spring is over;
To-day grieves, to-morrow grieves,
Cover me over, light-in-leaves;
Golden head, black wing,
Cling, swing,
Spring, sing,
Swing up into the apple-tree.
--T.S. Eliot
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You make me think of a daffodil...Have you always had them around in the spring? You are very daffodowndilly...
ReplyDeleteDo you find that they smell bad though? Maybe I'm wrong about that...I'm not saying that YOU stink, of course.
WV: conswi (kind of like zulu or something, eh?)