excerpts
Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.
Woman of Substance.
Her beauty and grace radiate as she stands tall, exuding elegance. The woman's blue and white dress complements her features, accentuating her figure. The dress, adorned with delicate patterns in shades of blue and white, flows gracefully around her as she moves. It enhances her feminine curves and adds an air of sophistication to her appearance.
By Dawn Earnshaw3 years ago in Poets
About The End Of The Summer
The birds giggle clearly and long together At the point when Style's supporters dash away At the primary cool breath of fall climate. Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to remain! At the point when the profound quiet ocean and the profound sky over Both look their enthusiasm through sun-kissed space, As a blue-peered toward servant and her blue-looked at sweetheart Could each look into the other's face. Gracious! this is while cautious spying Finds the privileged insights Nature knows. You find when the butterflies plan for flying (Before the thrush or the blackbird goes), You see sometime by the water's edges A splendid boundary of red and dark; And afterward off over the slopes and supports It shudders away on the late spring's track. The bashful little sumacs, in forlorn spots, Bowed the entire summer with residue and intensity, Like clean-clad kids with downpour washed faces, Are wearing red from top to bottom. Furthermore, never a bloom had the bombastic summer, In every one of the blooms that decked her turf, So illustrious shaded as that later comer The purple friend of the goldenrod. Some chill dim first light you note with lamenting That the Lord of Fall is coming. With a troubled, slow accepting, How the wanton woods have wandered off-track, They wear the stain of intense strokes, Of crazy revels with old Lord Ice; They astonish everyone's eyes with their lovely dresses, Nor care that their green youthful leaves are lost. A wet breeze blows from the East one morning, The wood's gay articles of clothing looked draggled out. You hear a sound, and your heart takes warning― The birds are arranging their colder time of year course. They haggle and admonish and fight, Their attitudes are unsettled, their voices clearly; Then whirr and away in a padded knot, To blur in the south like a passing cloud. Envoi A songless wood stripped exposed of glory― A drenched field that is dark and brown; The year has completed its last romantic tale: Goodness! let us away to the gay splendid town.
By Edris Post3 years ago in Poets
