tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15474105.post-62433618639716702152007-12-10T05:25:00.000-08:002007-12-10T06:28:19.597-08:00<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9_w_HzQv0cE/R11CcDLpixI/AAAAAAAAAAs/H5lXoFhxMbM/s1600-h/Emily_Dickinson.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142339399184911122" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9_w_HzQv0cE/R11CcDLpixI/AAAAAAAAAAs/H5lXoFhxMbM/s200/Emily_Dickinson.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;">Some say Emily Dickinson (1830–86) is America’s greatest poet. I know that </span><span style="font-size:85%;">she’s definitely one of myFaves. Since today’s Miss Emily’s birthday, here are some of her thoughts.</span><br /><br /></div><p>To make a prairie it takes a clover<br />And one bee, ―<br />One clover, and a bee,<br />And revery.<br />The revery alone will do<br />If bees are few.</p><p><span style="font-size:78%;">###</span></p><p>Before you thought of spring,<br />Except as a surmise,<br />You see, God bless his suddenness,<br />A fellow in the skies<br />Of independent hues,<br />A little weather-worn,<br />Inspiriting habiliments<br />Of indigo and brown.<br /><br />With specimens of song,<br />As if for you to choose,<br />Discretion in the interval,<br />With gay delays he goes<br />To some superior tree<br />Without a single leaf,<br />And shouts for joy to nobody<br />But his seraphic self! </p><br /><div><br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/faves?sub=addfavbtn&amp;add=http://gardentravelerclippings.blogspot.com"><img alt="Add to Technorati Favorites" src="http://static.technorati.com/pix/fave/btn-fave2.png" /></a> </div><br /><br /><a href="http://technorati.com/claim/rj9vwfat8d" rel="me">Technorati Profile</a>The Garden Travelerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10672119366460883406noreply@blogger.com