[stylist] Exhibit B

[James Canaday M.A. N6YR]

yes,
it is very good.

but I can honestly say "a" is good too if you have a little imagery 
and romance in your heart.
jc

Jim Canaday M.A.
Lawrence, KS

At 02:28 PM 4/4/2009, you wrote:
>Man, I like that.
>
>-----Original Message-----
>From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
>Behalf Of John Lee Clark
>Sent: Saturday, April 04, 2009 12:59 PM
>To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
>Subject: [stylist] Exhibit B
>
>Exhibit B is an example of an obliquely relevant poem.  Though it doesn't
>mention blindness, it mentions fate and that life is so marred with grief
>and pain, yet what is so awful is not said at all.  This is very
>interesting, as the poet was losing her sight and recently admitted to the
>Indiana Institution for the Blind.  This is something that would fit nicely
>in the anthology.
>
>
>AUTUMN.
>
>     Oh Autumn, sweet sad Autumn queen,
>       With robe of golden brown,
>     Our hearts are bowed with grief and pain,
>       As each leaf flutters down.
>
>     In every drooping flow'ret,
>       In every leafless tree,
>     By warbling birds deserted,
>       We find some trace of thee.
>
>     Thou'rt lovely, oh, so lovely,
>       And yet how brief thy stay,
>     Why is it all things beautiful
>       Must droop and fade away?
>
>     All, all thy gorgeous painted leaves,
>       With colors bright and gay,
>     Were touched by nature's magic brush,
>       Then rudely cast away.
>
>     And thus our dearest hopes are crushed,
>       By fate's relentless will,
>     Like withered leaves they pass away--
>       But peace, sad heart, be still.
>
>     Thou too must breast the adverse wind,
>       Be wildly tempest-tossed,
>     Perhaps when thou art hushed in death,
>       Thou'lt meet the loved and lost.
>
>     But for this sweetly, solemn thought
>       That thrills us with delight,
>     This life, so marred by grief and pain,
>       Could never seem so bright.
>
>     Then welcome, sweet, sad Autumn days,
>       Though brief the hallowed reign,
>     For every smile must have its tear,
>       And every joy its pain.
>
>
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>
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