Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Chapter I--Alice's Adventures in Wonderland: "Down the Rabbit Hole" (Lewis Carroll, 1832-1898)

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Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice 'without pictures or conversation?'

So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.

There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!' (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.

Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next. First, she tried to look down and make out what she was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with cupboards and book-shelves; here and there she saw maps and pictures hung upon pegs. She took down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed; it was labelled 'ORANGE MARMALADE', but to her great disappointment it was empty: she did not like to drop the jar for fear of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the cupboards as she fell past it.

'Well!' thought Alice to herself, 'after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!' (Which was very likely true.)

Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end! 'I wonder how many miles I've fallen by this time?' she said aloud. 'I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the earth. Let me see: that would be four thousand miles down, I think--' (for, you see, Alice had learnt several things of this sort in her lessons in the schoolroom, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off her knowledge, as there was no one to listen to her, still it was good practice to say it over) '--yes, that's about the right distance--but then I wonder what Latitude or Longitude I've got to?' (Alice had no idea what Latitude was, or Longitude either, but thought they were nice grand words to say.)

Presently she began again. 'I wonder if I shall fall right through the earth! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that walk with their heads downward! The Antipathies, I think--' (she was rather glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all the right word) '--but I shall have to ask them what the name of the country is, you know. Please, Ma'am, is this New Zealand or Australia?' (and she tried to curtsey as she spoke--fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air! Do you think you could manage it?) 'And what an ignorant little girl she'll think me for asking! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere.'

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Alice soon began talking again. 'Dinah'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!' (Dinah was the cat.) 'I hope they'll remember her saucer of milk at tea-time. Dinah my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There are no mice in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a bat, and that's very like a mouse, you know. But do cats eat bats, I wonder?' And here Alice began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to herself, in a dreamy sort of way, 'Do cats eat bats? Do cats eat bats?' and sometimes, 'Do bats eat cats?' for, you see, as she couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way she put it. She felt that she was dozing off, and had just begun to dream that she was walking hand in hand with Dinah, and saying to her very earnestly, 'Now, Dinah, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a bat?' when suddenly, thump! thump! down she came upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves, and the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt, and she jumped up on to her feet in a moment: she looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, 'Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the roof.

There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever to get out again.

Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice's first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!

Alice opened the door and found that it led into a small passage, not much larger than a rat-hole: she knelt down and looked along the passage into the loveliest garden you ever saw. How she longed to get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright flowers and those cool fountains, but she could not even get her head though the doorway; 'and even if my head would go through,' thought poor Alice, 'it would be of very little use without my shoulders. Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only know how to begin.' For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible.

There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, ('which certainly was not here before,' said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words 'DRINK ME' beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say 'Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. 'No, I'll look first,' she said, 'and see whether it's marked "poison" or not'; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison,' it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

However, this bottle was not marked 'poison,' so Alice ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed flavour of cherry-tart, custard, pine-apple, roast turkey, toffee, and hot buttered toast,) she very soon finished it off.


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'What a curious feeling!' said Alice; 'I must be shutting up like a telescope.'

And so it was indeed: she was now only ten inches high, and her face brightened up at the thought that she was now the right size for going through the little door into that lovely garden. First, however, she waited for a few minutes to see if she was going to shrink any further: she felt a little nervous about this; 'for it might end, you know,' said Alice to herself, 'in my going out altogether, like a candle. I wonder what I should be like then?' And she tried to fancy what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, for she could not remember ever having seen such a thing.

After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass, and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery; and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.

'Come, there's no use in crying like that!' said Alice to herself, rather sharply; 'I advise you to leave off this minute!' She generally gave herself very good advice, (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes; and once she remembered trying to box her own ears for having cheated herself in a game of croquet she was playing against herself, for this curious child was very fond of pretending to be two people. 'But it's no use now,' thought poor Alice, 'to pretend to be two people! Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!'

Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it, and found in it a very small cake, on which the words 'EAT ME' were beautifully marked in currants. 'Well, I'll eat it,' said Alice, 'and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I'll get into the garden, and I don't care which happens!'

She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, 'Which way? Which way?', holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.

So she set to work, and very soon finished off the cake.


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Illustration: John Tenniel, circa 1865

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Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, originally published 4 July 1865
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Monday, August 11, 2008

Classic Poetry: Orpheus With His Lute (William Shakespeare, 1564-1616)

Image adapted from a painting by Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1796-1875)
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Orpheus with his lute made trees

And the mountain tops that freeze

--Bow themselves when he did sing:

To his music plants and flowers

Ever sprung; as sun and showers

--There had made a lasting spring.

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Orpheus With His Lute





eurypheus

von Ralph Vaughan Williams
Text:
1. Strophe W. Shakespeare
2. Strophe Th. Bremser
Arrangement für Laute und Altus von Thomas Bocklenberg
Thomas B Duo
Live am 30. November 2007 OaR4.6
Thomas Bremser, Altus
Thomas Bocklenberg, Laute


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Every thing that heard him play,

Even the billows of the sea,

--Hung their heads and then lay by.

In sweet music is such art, 10

--Killing care and grief of heart

--Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
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Sunday, August 10, 2008

Classic Poetry: A Riddle (Hannah More, 1745-1833)

Hannah More, After the painting by H.W. Pickersgill, A.R.A.
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I'm a strange contraction; I'm new, and I'm old,

I'm often in tatteres, and oft decked with gold.

Though I could never read, yet lettered I'm found;

Though blind, I enlighten; though loose, I am bound,

I'm always in black, and I'm always in white;

I'm grave and I'm gay, I am heavy and light--

In form too, I differ--I'm thick and I'm thin,

I've no flesh and bones, yet I'm covered with skin;

I've more points than the compass, more stops than the flute;

I sing without voice, without speaking confute.

I'm English, I'm German, I'm French, and I'm Dutch;

Some love me too fondly, some slight me too much;

I often die soon, though I sometimes live ages,

And no monarch alive has so many pages.

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What am I?

To find out the answer,

highlight the following: A Book!!!!!!!!

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Saturday, August 9, 2008

Classic Poetry: Tom O'Bedlam (Anonymous Folk Song)

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"The Interior of Bedlam," from A Rake's Progress, by William Hogarth, 1763.
(McCormick Library, Northwestern University--From Wikipedia).
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From the hag and hungry goblin,
That into rags would rend ye,
------The spirit that stands
------By the naked man
In the Book of Moons, defend ye,

That of your five sound senses,
You never be forsaken,
------Nor wander from
------Yourselves with Tom,
Abroad to beg your bacon.

------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ Be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."


Of thirty bare years have I,
Twice twenty been enraged,
------ And of forty been
------ Three times fifteen,
in durance soundly caged,

In the lordly lofts of Bedlam,
With the stubble soft and dainty,
------ Brave bracelets strong,
------ Sweet whips ding-dong,
With wholesome hunger plenty.

------ And now I sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."

With a thought I took for Maudlin,
And a cruse of cockle pottage.
------ With a thing thus tall,
------ Sky bless you all,
I befell into this dotage.

I slept not since the Conquest,
Till then I never waked.
------ Till the roguish boy
------ Of love where I lay
Me found and stripped me naked.

------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."


When short I have shorn my sow's face,
And swigged my horny barrel,
------ In an oaken inn,
------ I pound my skin
As a suit of gilt apparel.

The Moon's my constant mistress,
And the lonely owl my marrow.
------The flaming drake
------and the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow.

------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."


The palsy plagues my pulses,
When I prig your pigs or pullen.
------ Your culvers take,
------ or matchless make
Your Chanticleer or Sullen.

When I want provant, with Humphry
I sup, and when benighted,
------ I repose in Paul's
------ with waking souls,
Yet never am affrighted.

------ But I do sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."

I know more than Apollo,
For oft when he lies sleeping
------ I see the stars
------ at mortal wars
In the wounded welkin weeping.

The moon embrace her shepherd,
And the Queen of Love her warrior,
------ While the first doth horn
------ the star of morn,
and the next the heavenly Farrier.

------ While I do sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."

The Gypsies, Snap and Pedro,
Are none of Tom's comradoes,
------ The punk I scorn,
------ and the cutpurse sworn
And the roaring boy's bravadoes.

The meek, the white, the gentle,
Me handle not nor spare not;
------ But those that cross
------ Tom Rynosseross
Do what the panther dare not.

------ Although I sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."


With an host of furious fancies,
Whereof I am commander.
------ With a burning spear
------ And a horse of Air,
To the wilderness I wander.

By a knight of ghosts and shadows,
I summoned am to tourney
------ Ten leagues beyond
------ The wild world's end--
Methinks it is no journey.

------ Yet I do sing "Any food, any feeding?
------ Money, drink, or clothing?
------ Come dame or maid,
------ be not afraid--
------ Poor Tom will injure nothing."


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Friday, August 8, 2008

Classic Poetry: "Pheidippides" (Robert Browning, 1812-1889)

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Robert Browning
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First I salute this soil of the blessed, river and rock!

Gods of my birthplace, dæmons and heroes, honour to all!

Then I name thee, claim thee for our patron, co-equal in praise

Ay, with Zeus the Defender, with Her of the ægis and spear!

Also, ye of the bow and the buskin, praised be your peer,

Now, henceforth, and forever, O latest to whom I upraise

Hand and heart and voice! For Athens, leave pasture and flock!

Present to help, potent to save, Pan, patron I call!



Archons of Athens, topped by the tettix, see, I return!

See, 'tis myself here standing alive, no spectre that speaks!

Crowned with the myrtle, did you command me, Athens and you,

"Run, Pheidippides, run and race, reach Sparta for aid!

Persia has come, we are here, where is She?" Your command I obeyed,

Ran and raced: like stubble, some field which a fire runs through,

Was the space between city and city: two days, two nights did I burn

Over the hills, under the dales, down pits and up peaks.




Into their midst I broke: breath served but for "Persia has come!

Persia bids Athens proffer slaves'-tribute, water and earth;

Razed to the ground is Eretria. but Athens? shall Athens, sink,

Drop into dust and die, the flower of Hellas utterly die,

Die with the wide world spitting at Sparta, the stupid, the stander-by?

Answer me quick, what help, what hand do you stretch o'er destruction's brink?

How, when? No care for my limbs! there's lightning in all and some,

Fresh and fit your message to bear, once lips give it birth!"



O my Athens, Sparta love thee? did Sparta respond?

Every face of her leered in a furrow of envy, mistrust,

Malice, each eye of her gave me its glitter of gratified hate!

Gravely they turned to take counsel, to cast for excuses. I stood

Quivering, the limbs of me fretting as fire frets, an inch from dry wood:

"Persia has come, Athens asks aid, and still they debate?

Thunder, thou Zeus! Athene, are Spartans a quarry beyond

Swing of thy spear? Phoibos and Artemis, clang them 'Ye must'!"



No bolt launched from Olumpos! Lo, their answer at last!

"Has Persia come, does Athens ask aid, may Sparta befriend?

Nowise precipitate judgment, too weighty the issue at stake!

Count we no time lost time which lags thro' respect to the Gods!

Ponder that precept of old, 'No warfare, whatever the odds

In your favour, so long as the moon, half-orbed, is unable to take

Full-circle her state in the sky!' Already she rounds to it fast:

Athens must wait, patient as we, who judgment suspend."



Athens, except for that sparkle, thy name, I had mouldered to ash!

That sent a blaze thro' my blood; off, off and away was I back,

Not one word to waste, one look to lose on the false and the vile!

Yet "O Gods of my land!" I cried, as each hillock and plain,

Wood and stream, I knew, I named, rushing past them again,

"Have ye kept faith, proved mindful of honours we paid you erewhile?

Vain was the filleted victim, the fulsome libation! Too rash

Love in its choice, paid you so largely service so slack!



"Oak and olive and bay, I bid you cease to en-wreathe

50Brows made bold by your leaf! Fade at the Persian's foot,

You that, our patrons were pledged, should never adorn a slave!

Rather I hail thee, Parnes, trust to thy wild waste tract!

Treeless, herbless, lifeless mountain! What matter if slacked

My speed may hardly be, for homage to crag and to cave

No deity deigns to drape with verdure? at least I can breathe,

Fear in thee no fraud from the blind, no lie from the mute!"



Such my cry as, rapid, I ran over Parnes' ridge;

Gully and gap I clambered and cleared till, sudden, a bar

Jutted, a stoppage of stone against me, blocking the way.

Right! for I minded the hollow to traverse, the fissure across:

"Where I could enter, there I depart by! Night in the fosse?

Athens to aid? Tho' the dive were thro' Erebos, thus I obey

Out of the day dive, into the day as bravely arise! No bridge

Better!" when, ha! what was it I came on, of wonders that are?



There, in the cool of a cleft, sat he, majestical Pan!

Ivy drooped wanton, kissed his head, moss cushioned his hoof;

All the great God was good in the eyes grave-kindly, the curl

Carved on the bearded cheek, amused at a mortal's awe

As, under the human trunk, the goat-thighs grand I saw.

"Halt, Pheidippides!", halt I did, my brain of a whirl:

"Hither to me! Why pale in my presence?"! he gracious began:

"How is it, Athens, only in Hellas, holds me aloof?



"Athens, she only, rears me no fane, makes me no feast!

Wherefore? Than I what godship to Athens more helpful of old?

Ay, and still, and forever her friend! Test Pan, trust me!

Go bid Athens take heart, laugh Persia to scorn, have faith

In the temples and tombs! Go, say to Athens, 'The Goat-God saith:

When Persia so much as strews not the soil, Is cast in the sea,

Then praise Pan who fought in the ranks with your most and least,

Goat-thigh to greaved-thigh, made one cause with the free and the bold!'



"Say Pan saith: 'Let this, foreshowing the place, be the pledge!'"

(Gay, the liberal hand held out this herbage I bear

Fennel, I grasped it a-tremble with dew, whatever it bode),

"While, as for thee..." But enough! He was gone. If I ran hitherto,

Be sure that the rest of my journey, I ran no longer, but flew.

Parnes to Athens, earth no more, the air was my road;

Here am I back. Praise Pan, we stand no more on the razor's edge!

Pan for Athens, Pan for me! I too have a guerdon rare!



Then spoke Miltiades. "And thee, best runner of Greece,

Whose limbs did duty indeed, what gift is promised thyself?

Tell it us straightway, Athens the mother demands of her son!"

Rosily blushed the youth: he paused: but, lifting at length

His eyes from the ground, it seemed as he gathered the rest of his strength

Into the utterance "Pan spoke thus: 'For what thou hast done

Count on a worthy reward! Henceforth be allowed thee release

From the racer's toil, no vulgar reward in praise or in pelf!'



"I am bold to believe, Pan means reward the most to my mind!

Fight I shall, with our foremost, wherever this fennel may grow,

Pound, Pan helping us, Persia to dust, and, under the deep,

Whelm her away forever; and then, no Athens to save,

Marry a certain maid, I know keeps faith to the brave,

Hie to my house and home: and, when my children shall creep

Close to my knees, recount how the God was awful yet kind,

Promised their sire reward to the full, rewarding him, so!"



Unforeseeing one! Yes, he fought on the Marathon day:

So, when Persia was dust, all cried "To Akropolis!

Run, Pheidippides, one race more! the meed is thy due!

'Athens is saved, thank Pan,' go shout!" He flung down his shield,

Ran like fire once more: and the space 'twixt the Fennel-field

And Athens was stubble again, a field which a fire runs through,

Till in he broke: "Rejoice, we conquer!" Like wine thro' clay,

Joy in his blood bursting his heart, he died, the bliss!



So, to this day, when friend meets friend, the word of salute

Is still "Rejoice!" his word which brought rejoicing indeed.

So is Pheidippides happy forever, the noble strong man

Who could race like a god, bear the face of a god, whom a god loved so well,

He saw the land saved he had helped to save, and was suffered to tell

Such tidings, yet never decline, but, gloriously as he began,

So to end gloriously, once to shout, thereafter be mute:

"Athens is saved!" Pheidippides dies in the shout for his meed.

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1968 Olympics: John Stephen Akhwari of Tanzania Finishes the Race



AbundanceTeachers:

It was almost 7 pm in Mexico City, October 1968. One hour earlier the winners of the 26 mile Olympic marathon had crossed the finish line. It had been a grueling hot day as the high altitude affected all the athletes. The sky was beginning to darken and most of the stadium was empty. As the last few spectators were preparing to leave, police sirens and flashing lights caught their attention. A lone runner, wearing the colours of Tanzania had just emerged through the stadium gate. Limping, with his leg bandaged he found the last of his endurance to step up his pace and finish the race. His name was John Stephen Akhwari." Give everything, and then find a little more to finish the race.

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Thursday, August 7, 2008

Snowflake Song (Hilda Conkling, 1910-1986)

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Hilda Conkling as pictured in Poems by a Little Girl _____________________________________________________________________


Snowflakes come in fleets

Like ships over the sea.

The moon shines down on the crusty snow:

The stars make the sky sparkle like gold-fish

In a glassy bowl.




Bluebirds are gone now,

But they left their song behind them.

The moon seems to say:

It is time for summer when the birds come back

To pick up their lonesome songs.

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Hilda Conkling was a child poet; between the ages of 4-10, she would often recite her poems to her mother, who would then write them down. Eventually, Hilda's mother stopped writing the poems down.

Most of Conkling poems were written when she was a child and have to do with the natural world.

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