Archive for the ‘Flowers’ Tag

Morning Glory   Leave a comment

01516v

Above:  May Morning (1886)

Image Creator = Hatch Litho. Co.

Image Source = Library of Congress

(http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2004667246/)

Reproduction Number = LC-DIG-pga-01516

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A poem based on the view at my front door this morning

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The sky is blue and mostly clear;

a few wispy clouds have appeared.

The sun shines brightly upon the ground;

hardly an unpleasant sight is to be found.

The flowers so colorful are,

and lovely green grass is close, not far.

The trees, majestic and near,

comfort me; I have nothing to fear.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

MAY 27, 2013 COMMON ERA

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Wildflowers   Leave a comment

16705v

Above:  Wildflowers in Bloom, Between 1915 and 1935

Photographer = Frances Benjamin Johnston (1864-1952)

Image Source = Library of Congress

(http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2008676005/)

Reproduction Number = LC-DIG-ppmsca-16705

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Wildflowers–

orange, purple, and yellow–

stand out from the green vegetation,

forming a visual feast

for anyone from any station

in life to enjoy when mellow.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

MAY 22, 2013 COMMON ERA

An Orange Flower   Leave a comment

Beside Mitchell Bridge Road,

beside a ditch,

amid a sea of green,

a lone orange flower blooms,

casting its splendor across the grass.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

APRIL 21, 2013 COMMON ERA

To a Young Lady for a Boquet   Leave a comment

Above:  A Bouquet of Flowers in a Vase

Words are useless, language vain,

Inexpressive every art,

Angels could not sound the strain

That would come forth from my heart.

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When I look upon this token,

Which, I trust, bespeaks for me

Friendship that shall not be broken,

Then in spirit I’m with thee.

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As I gaze into its face

Memory broods on scenes agone;

Then, in fancy, I can trace

Lineaments like to thine own.

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And thy sweet angelic tone

Seems to fall upon mine ear,

Till, forgetting thou art gone,

Oft I think that thou are near.

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And, tho’ leagues our hearts now sever,

This thought sweet indeed is found:

Separation never, never,

Can unbind hearts truly bound.

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When sweet notes no more have rolled,

Echoes still repeat the strain;

When the censer’s fire grows cold,

Perfumes sweet there still remain.

JOHN DODSON TAYLOR, SR.

Posted September 20, 2011 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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