Yesterday, the golden crescent of an old moon
woke me, bright above the horizon
an hour before the sun,
continue reading …
{ 0 comments }
From the category archives:
Yesterday, the golden crescent of an old moon
woke me, bright above the horizon
an hour before the sun,
continue reading …
{ 0 comments }
Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors
which it passes to a row of ancient trees.
You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you,
one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth,
continue reading …
{ 2 comments }
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last—far off—at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.
continue reading …
{ 0 comments }
{ 0 comments }
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases, it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
continue reading …
{ 2 comments }
After decades of living and painting in or near Paris, Renoir settled permanently in Cagnes-sur-Mer in 1907 at age 67 where he spent the last 11 years of his life. The mild Mediterranean climate, the colorful landscape and the luminous light inspired perhaps his greatest work.
continue reading …
{ 14 comments }
Once more the liberal year laughs out
O’er richer stores than gems or gold:
Once more with harvest song and shout
Is nature’s boldest triumph told.
~ John Greenleaf Whittier
continue reading …
{ 0 comments }
{ 0 comments }