Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Basse Mer

The tide goes's become my favorite time, a daily dose of autumnal feeling.

This have I always known: Love is no more
Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales.
Pity me that the heart is slow to learn
What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

excerpted from Edna St. Vincent Millay's
"Pity me not"


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