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Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER


…I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing,
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now,
The summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.

I remember, I remember
The fir-trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
Were close against the sky:
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from Heaven
Than when I was a boy.

{A poem by Thomas Hood -- who died this day in 1845 -- that was often quoted by the cursed Samuel McCord}

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6 comments:

  1. Beautiful and a little heart breaking. Like Robert Frost's poem about swinging on birches.
    (= Yay-- for poetry.

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  2. Jo :
    Yes, poetry is the heart transformed into words, isn't it?

    The news story of the B movie star of the 1950's found mummified in her home, after having been there a year, brought up that poem to me. A year passed without anyone missing her. How sad. Roland

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  3. WOW, never read that one. It sure sums up our adult value system.
    Jules @ Trying To Get Over The Rainbow

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  4. Thanks, Jules. Have a great end of week and only good fortune, Roland

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  5. Okay, I'm dumb, but this reminded me of THE GIVING TREE. What does that tell you? I need to stop using children's books to teach plot to seventh graders (and, alas, I am overwhelming my comment with infinitives/prep phrases). I so need a life.

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  6. Alleged Author :
    Nothing dumb about that. THE GIVING TREE is a gem for children. Teaching certainly drains so much free time and energy from us, and that is for sure! Roland

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