A day when I long for retreat, a winter beach cottage, a lonely boat,
I make do with my rocking chair,
and a page from an antique speller.
Words from The Death of the Flowers--Bryant.
melancholy, rustle, sisterhood, smoky...
I am more interested in the words chosen, and the title of the poem,
than the poem itself (too baroque for my mood this night,
though it has some wonderful lines). What did the children make of it,
when their teacher read it to them some autumn morning?
I prefer the astringency of Emily Dickinson:
I hide myself within my flower,
That, fading from your vase,
You, unsuspecting, feel for me
Almost a loneliness.