Month: January 2015

Avril Anderson

Drop English earth on him beneath Do our sons; and their sons bequeath His glories and our pride and grief At Bladon. For Lionheart that lies below That feared not toil nor tears nor foe. Let the oak stand tho’ tempests blow At Bladon. So Churchill sleeps, yet surely wakes Old Warrior where the morning breaks On sunlit uplands. But the heart aches At Bladon.…

E E Cummings

be of love(a little) More careful Than of everything guard her perhaps only A trifle less (merely beyond how very) closely than Nothing,remember love by frequent anguish(imagine Her least never with most memory)give entirely each Forever its freedom (Dare until a flower, understanding sizelessly sunlight Open what thousandth why and discover laughing)…

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