Every spring, when our old magnolia tree blooms, I am reminded of this photo of one of my favorite poets, my dear friend, as I like to call her, Edna St. Vincent Millay. It looks as if it could have been taken right here at the manor. I can't let National Poetry Month go by without posting just a bit of Ms. St. Vee. I adore her elegant sonnets. Even though they are a centuries old art form, hers are so masterfully written, they stand up well against today's modern poetry. Since it happens to be tax season, as well as the season of spring fever, I thought this particularly romantic piece so apropos.
|Edna St. Vincent Millay|
We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;
Well, such you are, --but well enough we know
How thick about us root, how rankly grow
Those subtle weeds no man has need to tend,
Though flourish through neglect, and soon must send
Perfume too sweet upon us and overthrow
Our steady senses; how such matters go
We are aware, and how such matters end.
Yet shall be told no meagre passion here,
With lovers such as we forevermore
Isolde drinks the draught, and Guinevere
Receives the Table's ruin through her door,
Francesca, with the loud surf at her ear,
Lets fall the coloured book upon the floor.
|Magnolia in bloom at Willow Manor, April 12, 2010|