Afternoon On A Hill

        I will be the gladdest thing
            Under the sun!
        I will touch a hundred flowers
            And not pick one.

        I will look at cliffs and clouds
            With quiet eyes,
        Watch the wind bow down the grass,
            And the grass rise.

        And when lights begin to show
            Up from the town,
        I will mark which must be mine,
            And then start down!

                                                      By Edna St. Vincent Millay

Poetry Friday

The Sun Has Long Been Set
 by William Wordsworth

The sun has long been set,   
  The stars are out by twos and threes, 
The little birds are piping yet   
  Among the bushes and trees; 
There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, 
And a far-off wind that rushes, 
And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo's sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.   
  Who would "go parading"
In London, "and masquerading,"
On such a night of June
With that beautiful soft half-moon, 
And all these innocent blisses?
On such a night as this is!

Poetry Friday
Astrophel and Stella XXXIX
BY Sir Philip Sidney (1554-1586)

Come, Sleep! O Sleep, the certain knot of peace,
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw!
O make in me those civil wars to cease;
I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light,
A rosy garland, and a weary head;
And if these things, as being thine by right,
Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.