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Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch
Daffodil
 

Sphagnum-scented, bright green spear,
Thrusting upward through dark, moist moss.
Golden crown and rosy trumpet
Iridescent in Spring’s shimmering sunlight.
Breathe now of delicious perfume
As sweet as a newborn’s scent,
And glory in the silken softness

Of newly opened petals.

 
Debra Shiveley Welch
©2008

 
Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch

The earth exhales in gratitude, at the hope of Winter’s end; flowers in bloom
Herald the arrival of Spring.
 
Youth rejoices as the air warms, with the scent of daffodils, and glorious tulips stand like lovers side by side.
 
Birds trill their joyous song, hungry mouths stretched toward the sky, as Robin and Jay and Sparrow, renew the promise of the season, with new life.
 
Those of us who remember yesterday and yesterday and yesterday more, stand and stretch and warm our bones beneath Spring’s rejuvenating rays,
 
And once again our hearts lift in thankful prayer,
For another Spring is ours.
 
Debra Shiveley Welch
©2007

 
Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch

 
Posted By Debra Shiveley Welch

"If you cannot understand my argument, and declare "It's Greek to me," you are quoting Shakespeare; if you claim to be more sinned against than sinning, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you recall your salad days, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you want to party; if you act more in sorrow than in anger, if your wish is father to the thought, if your lost property has vanished into thin air, you are quoting Shakespeare; if you have ever refused to budge an inch or suffered from green-eyed jealousy, if you have played fast and loose, if you have been tongue-tied, a tower of strength, hoodwinked or in a pickle, if you have knitted your brows, made a virtue of necessity, insisted on fair play, slept not one wink, stood on ceremony, danced attendance (on your lord and master), laughed yourself into stitches, had short shrift, cold comfort or too much of a good thing, if you have seen better days or lived in a fool's paradise - why, be that as it may, the more fool you, for it is a foregone conclusion that you are (as good luck would have it) quoting Shakespeare; if you think it is early days and clear out bag and baggage, if you think it is high time and that is the long and short of it, if you believe that the game is up and that truth will out even if it involves your own flesh and blood, if you lie low till the crack of doom because you suspect foul play, if you have your teeth set on edge (at one fell swoop) without rhyme or reason, then - to give the devil his due -- if the truth were known (for surely you have a tongue in your head) you are quoting Shakespeare; even if you bid me good riddance and send me packing, if you wish I was dead as a door-nail, if you think I am an eyesore, a laughing stock, the devil incarnate, a stony-hearted villain, bloody-minded or a blinking idiot, then - by Jove! O Lord! Tut, tut! For goodness' sake! What the dickens! But me no buts - it is all one to me, for you are quoting Shakespeare.

 

The Story of English robert McCrum, William Cran, and robert MacNeil pgs. 99-100 Penguin Books Copyright 1986

 


 

 

 
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Central Ohio

 

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2010