"Frustrations fill the void that I can't solely bear..."
Comments. I love comments. I have posted 172 journal entries, and 710 comments. I really love them, both to give them and to receive them. I hate it when I jump to conclusions as well. When it seems like someone I would like to comment on my journal comments on everyone's but mine. Jealousy is icky. Ah, well. Here's a poem for a day:
TO ———. Poe Sleep on, sleep on, another hour—
I would not break so calm a sleep, To wake to sunshine and to show'r,
To smile and weep.
Sleep on, sleep on, like sculptured thing,
Majestic, beautiful art thou; Sure seraph shields thee with his wing
And fans thy brow—
We would not deem thee child of earth,
For, O, angelic, is thy form! But, that in heav'n thou had'st thy birth,
Where comes no storm
To mar the bright, the perfect flow'r,
But all is beautiful and still— And golden sands proclaim the hour
Which brings no ill.
Sleep on, sleep on, some fairy dream
Perchance is woven in thy sleep— But, O, thy spirit, calm, serene,