Tuesday, February 7, 2012

a poem

“To sit on rocks; to muse o’er flood and fell;
To slowly trace the forest’s shady scene,
Where things that own not man’s dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne’er or rarely been!
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock, that never need a fold;
Alone o’er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude: ‘tis but to hold
Converse with nature’s charms, and view her stores unrolled.”



SisterlyLove said...

So beautiful!


Jeannette said...

I will quickly say hello and thank you for posting this and scroll back up to read it again!

SisterlyLove said...

Thank you for your pleasing remarks my friends!
Yours truly,

SisterlyLove said...

"I do not know that one.."
"Byron." hee hee!
this is lovely Em!
thank you!