dear damon
Happy Valentine's 2005
Madonna of the Evening Flowers
All�day�long�I�have�been�working,
Now�I�am�tired.
I�call:���Where�are�you?�
But�there�is�only�the�oak�tree�rustling�in�the�wind.
The�house�is�very�quiet,
The�sun�shines�in�on�your�books,
On�your�scissors�and�thimble�just�put�down,
But�you�are�not�there.
Suddenly�I�am�lonely:
Where�are�you?
I�go�about�searching.
Then�I�see�you,
Standing�under�a�spire�of�pale�blue�larkspur,
With�a�basket�of�roses�on�your�arm.
You�are�cool,�like�silver,
And�you�smile.
I�think�the�Canterbury�bells�are�playing�little�tunes.
You�tell�me�that�the�peonies�need�spraying,
That�the�columbines�have�overrun�all�bounds,
That�the�pyrus�japonica�should�be�cut�back�and�rounded.
You�tell�me�these�things.
But�I�look�at�you,�heart�of�silver,
White�heart-flame�of�polished�silver,
Burning�beneath�the�blue�steeples�of�the�larkspur,
And�I�long�to�kneel�instantly�at�your�feet,
While�all�about�us�peal�the�loud,�sweet�Te�Deums�of�the�Canterbury�bells.
- Amy Lowell
pensively yours,
frances
On the bedside table this month:
Strawberry Sparkling Water
On the turntable this month:
Muse: Absolution
KNOCK, KNOCK. WHO'S THERE?
Enter the dragon...Say What?!
Name that tune!
Educate Me!
BRITGIRL's gig report
Ravenous for "Ravenous?"
The archives c'est arrive'!
This page hosted by 
Get your own Free Home Page