Quote, 10/08/2010

ejmoore510(7)October 7, 2010

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman,

the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things

come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go,

not one lasts.

Autumn Movement

by Carl Sandburg

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Sandburg cuts right through to the core: nothing lasts forever, so enjoy the good and if things are not so good, wait for the good to come around again - it will.

    Bookmark   October 8, 2010 at 12:16AM
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The first "American" poem I ever read was from Carl Sandburg. I loved his poems ever since.

    Bookmark   October 8, 2010 at 7:18AM
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