And still the mad magnificent herald Spring
assembles beauty from forgetfulness
with the wild trump of April: witchery
of sound and odour drives the wingless thing
man forth into bright air,for now the red
leaps in the maple's cheek,and suddenly
by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress
ascends the golden crocus from the dead.
- e.e. cummings
Hello, I've followed your blog for a long time, and love it.
RépondreSupprimerI think it is unique.
Gorgeous photos on instagram.
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I am looking forward to your update!;)
RépondreSupprimerso pretty
RépondreSupprimerhttp://bitterteablog.blogspot.fi/
this is a beautiful poem. x
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