poetry

Last winter I printed a short poem by Robert Frost on textured paper and put a small stack out in the store with a note: a poem for you. Later I inserted the word free, because it is a store after all.

      Dust of Snow

    
    The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

                                                                     

I was surprised and pleased that a fair number of the poems were taken, and that a few people even came to talk to me about poetry. So next weekend I'm going to take another poem.

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

                                                                         - W.B. Yeats

Do you have a favorite poem?

Jen