"... you are changed to me and I to you, the way that creases remain always in a sheet of paper that has once been folded." (from "Mary Brunton" by John Stammers)
∴ [My avatar is Maggie Taylor's "The Optimist's Suit" - an original of which hangs on my wall.] ∴
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pool singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
Sep 12, 3:03pm
