[Stylist] a poem by Robert Burns

[Ann Chiappetta]

Hi-

It’s great to read your thoughts, Happy New Year and be well,

Annie

 

 

Ann M. Chiappetta, M.S.

Making Meaningful ConnectionsThrough Media 

914.393.6605 USA

 <mailto:Anniecms64 at gmail.com> Anniecms64 at gmail.com

All things Annie:  <http://www.annchiappetta.com> www.annchiappetta.com 

 

From: Stylist <stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org> On Behalf Of Richard R. Thomas via Stylist
Sent: Wednesday, December 28, 2022 5:46 PM
To: Writers' Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Cc: Richard R. Thomas <richardrthomas48 at gmail.com>
Subject: Re: [Stylist] a poem by Robert Burns

 

Hi Ann:

I looked up the use of colons and semicolons since a laymans read they seemed excessive with all the commas.

But he uses them correctly as far as I could tell, they all fall into proper usage operations of grammer.

So I learned something today, thanks Ann:

His use of commas like most poets provide timing pauses  enduring run-on sentences where periods could be used instead.

But I get it due to connectivity of thought as components of a complete painted thought and not stand-alone statements related to a noun or concept such as a pronoun might do.

Thanks again Ann and hope you had a nice holiday and a better new year coming up soon.

Richard R. Thomas (Rick USA)

 

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From: Ann Chiappetta via Stylist <mailto:stylist at nfbnet.org> 
Sent: Sunday, December 18, 2022 5:06 PM
To: Writers' Division Mailing List <mailto:stylist at nfbnet.org> 
Cc: Ann Chiappetta <mailto:anniecms64 at gmail.com> 
Subject: [Stylist] a poem by Robert Burns

 

Winter: A Dirge

 

 

Robert Burns 

 

 

The wintry west extends his blast, 

   And hail and rain does blaw; 

Or, the stormy north sends driving forth 

   The blinding sleet and snaw: 

While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, 

   And roars frae bank to brae; 

And bird and beast in covert rest, 

   And pass the heartless day. 

“The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,” 

   The joyless winter-day 

Let others fear, to me more dear 

   Than all the pride of May: 

The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul, 

   My griefs it seems to join; 

The leafless trees my fancy please, 

   Their fate resembles mine! 

Thou Power Supreme whose mighty scheme 

   These woes of mine fulfil, 

Here, firm, I rest; they must be best, 

   Because they are Thy will! 

Then all I want—O do Thou grant 

   This one request of mine.— 

Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, 

   Assist me to resign. 

 

 

This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on December 18, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.

 

 

 

Ann M. Chiappetta, M.S.

Making Meaningful ConnectionsThrough Media 

914.393.6605 USA

 <mailto:Anniecms64 at gmail.com> Anniecms64 at gmail.com

All things Annie:  <http://www.annchiappetta.com> www.annchiappetta.com 

 

 

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