Blazing in gold and quenching in purple,
Leaping like leopards to the sky,
Then at the feet of the old horizon
Laying her spotted face, to die;
Stooping as low as the kitchen window,
Touching the roof and tinting the barn,
Kissing her bonnet to the meadow,
— And the juggler of day is gone!
Emily Dickinson: Blazing in Gold and Quenching in Purple
The mountain sat upon the plain
In his eternal chair,
His observation omnifold,
His inquest everywhere.
The seasons prayed around his knees,
Like children round a sire:
Grandfather of the days is he,
Of dawn the ancestor.
Emily Dickinson: The Mountain Sat Upon the Plain
Ciao !
Ciao !
The poem describing the Mountain-top and its point of view is beautiful, With the Mountain being the center of all that is around it, being the center of attention and highest point of view. The mountain looks over us humans as we make mistakes and walk around like we are the only thing that matters. I would say though, otherwise if to be a bird, means to fly higher then the mountain and eat the worm off th ground. That bird gets the best of both worlds were the mountain only gets one. You being my "Worm" i need you to feel satisfied with my day, and above the mountain being my Spiritual "Faith". ~RomanNRiselvato
ReplyDeleteI agree...the mountain is high up above the rest of life but is bound in one place, whereas the bird is also high up but is free to go where it pleases...
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