Daffodowndilly
By A.A. Milne
From: When We Were Very Young
She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
“Winter is dead.”
I am the boy who won’t let go
I live in my head and I don’t look like my photos
And I hate the sound of the world outside
‘Cause everybody coming here can’t wait to say goodbye
I followed your car to my childhood home
And I looked for the key hidden under the stone
And I still hear the sound in my father’s voice
When he lifts me up like I’m a little boy
And I saw horses from my window
They were watching all the cars go
And they don’t care that I am broken
Close my eyes and run beside them
‘Cause I’m already free
I’m already free
So don’t look for me here
‘Cause I run in my dreams
I am the girl who won’t let go
I live in my house and I don’t like my photos
And I hate the sound of the world outside
And I still haven’t found my place to hide
And I saw horses from my window
They were watching all the cars go
And they don’t care that I am broken
Close my eyes and run beside them
I saw horses from my window
They were watching all the cars go
And they don’t care that I am broken
Close my eyes and run beside them
Through the valleys and the pastures
And I know you’ll never find me
‘Cause I’m already free
I’m already free
So don’t look for me here
Don’t look for me here
‘Cause I run in my dream
In my dreams
The Answer
by Robinson Jeffers
Then what is the answer?- Not to be deluded by dreams.
To know that great civilizations have broken down into violence,
and their tyrants come, many times before.
When open violence appears, to avoid it with honor or choose
the least ugly faction; these evils are essential.
To keep one’s own integrity, be merciful and uncorrupted
and not wish for evil; and not be duped
By dreams of universal justice or happiness. These dreams will
not be fulfilled.
To know this, and know that however ugly the parts appear
the whole remains beautiful. A severed hand
Is an ugly thing and man dissevered from the earth and stars
and his history… for contemplation or in fact…
Often appears atrociously ugly. Integrity is wholeness,
the greatest beauty is
Organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty
of the universe. Love that, not man
Apart from that, or else you will share man’s pitiful confusions,
or drown in despair when his days darken.
I come into the peace of wild things who do not
tax their lives with forethought of grief….
For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
–Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things
Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words.
They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty of their character,
though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning. — Lydia M. Child
As through the poplar’s gusty spire
The March wind sweeps and sings,
I sit beside the hollow fire,
And dream familiar things;
Old memories wake, faint echoes make
A murmur of dead Springs…
“Long Ago,” in Chambers’s Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art
Conducted by William and Robert Chambers, 1868
“The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong,
but we take leap after leap in the dark.” — Agnes De Mille
“Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.”
― Albert Camus
Maverick Mist 