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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 20:23:34 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 178748
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => In This Age
[time] => 2014-07-09 08:45:59
[hometext] => This started out a commentary on the subjects Burns, Shelley, hopkins, Keats, Plath etc. wrote of and how that's changed. An obvious derailement, but I like it.
[bodytext] => In this age, streams still burble, light still dances, green is still green and leaves haven't left; streams still pool 'neath cool rocky ledge; We still sing of ourselves deep in leaves grass on own Walden Pond ringed in heather and hedge. In this age, singing Warblers trill, yet vigilant still O’er ponds placid, and so they remain, watchful to motion; now heavens release springing from branches to flit in the rain; to wing, to swing and sweep low, making meals of insects asleep or to slow. In this age, so little has changed, but 'little' is not (I'm afraid) quite to say the same as 'nothing'; enter now man. This blundering creature; feeble bi-pedal, this clumsy destroyer heedless to ponds and cool pools, with no ear to Warblers- This 'progress' of man- Oh, so dirty my heart, my own warbling falls silent, sprung at poems start. But places in nature there blessedly be, if one intrepidly tread enough far and deep- still untrammelled, unstained, pristine it remains, and would ever it be, but no longer so, altered and lessened with a visit from me. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 101 [topic] => 27 [informant] => invierno [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry )
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