Barbara's Random Thoughts

I stumbled across The Sheila Variations last week, and it's already a daily must. Sheila quotes a wonderful poem today, one that strikes right at my fear of being the one who loves more.

According to Sheila and Unesco, today is World Poetry Day. My 2005 Poetry Speaks Desk Calendar sadly fails to mention this fact. I shall have to complain to the copy editor. (Hi, Jill!)

I was reading Edna St. Vincent Millay's sonnets off and on all weekend. So here's my poem for the day:

Pity Me Not

Pity me not because the light of day
At close of day no longer walks the sky;
Pity me not for beauties passed away
From field and thicket as the year goes by.
Pity me not the waning of the moon,
Or that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,
Or that a man's desire is hushed so soon,
And you no longer look with love on me.
This have I always known: Love is no more
Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,
Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,
Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales.
Pity me that the heart is slow to learn
What the swift mind beholds at every turn.