By Emily Dickinson The Trees like Tassels hit – and – swung –There seemed to rise a TuneFrom Miniature CreaturesAccompanying […]
You ask me why her breath is sweet, and why her cheek is blooming,
It is because the sun is out and birds begin to sing…
‘Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness / Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun’
By Joyce Kilmer I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth […]