MEMORY

 MEMORY by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour–
‘Twas noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue moon in May–
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then , pausing here, set down its load
Of pine scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.

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About thelastminstrel

Carpenter, very minor poet and writer, history buff, frustrated prospector, singer, guitar player [I'm still trying to convince the guitar that I'm not going to hurt it] the most eclectic reader I know, second born of four brothers, father of two sons,-------

Posted on January 9, 2011, in Borrowed Rymes. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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