Just thoughts

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Out of the bosom of the Air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.



even as our cloudy fancies take

Suddenly shape in some divine expression,

Even as the troubled heart doth make

In the white countenance confession,

The troubled sky reveals

The grief it feels.



This is the poem of the air,

Slowly in silent syllables recorded;

this is the secret of despair,

Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,

now whispered and revealed

to wood and field.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


I really like that poem.
 
"the poem of the air"--I like that! I've never read this one before. Thanks.

There's a "post your favourite poems" thread somewhere down this page if you're interested
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So wind blow through to my heart
So wind blow through my soul
 
I wander lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beaneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be happy,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed - and gazed but little thought

What wealth the snow to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which in the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.


Also by the same poet, but i like this too
 
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