Today's poets, today's poems. Share yours, send to firstname.lastname@example.org
Robert Louis Stevenson had a very different take. He viewed the blackbird, while Angelica saw the situation from the blackbird's perspective:My heart, when first the blackbird sings,My heart drinks in the song:Cool pleasure fills my bosom throughAnd spreads each nerve along.My bosom eddies quietly,My heart is stirred and coolAs when a wind-moved briar sweepsA stone into a poolBut unto thee, when thee I meet,My pulses thicken fast,As when the maddened lake grows blackAnd ruffles in the blast.
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