🚀 go-pugleaf

Ash Wurthing wrote:

> On Thursday, August 11, 2022 at 11:23:41 AM UTC-4, Will Dockery wrote:
>> On Saturday, July 30, 2022 at 2:38:18 PM UTC-4, NancyGene wrote:
>> > On Saturday, July 30, 2022 at 6:16:29 PM UTC, george...@yahoo.ca wrote:
>> > >
>> > > > Today's poem on Penny's Poetry Blog:
>> > > > A July Day, by Eben E. Rexford
>> > > > [...]
>> > > > A glory wraps the hills, and seems
>> > > > To weave an atmosphere of dreams
>> > > > [...]
>> > > > https://gdancesbetty.blogspot.com/2022/07/a-july-day-eben-e-rexford..html
>> > > >
>> > > > Picture: William Merritt Chase (1849-1916), Summer at Shinnecock Hills,
>> > > > 1891. Public domain, Wikimedia Commons
>> > > What a boring, sing-song poem
>>
>> Like I said, look who's talking.
>> You and Michael Pendragon specialize in dreary sing-song, second handed rhymes, Nancy Gene.
>> And so it goes.
>> > ! We saw this review of Mr. Rexford's ability as a poet:
>> > >
>> > > “Most of his poems are as far on the lugubrious side as are the poems of a certain recent popular poet on the pollyanna, but they are just as bad, and are reminiscent of the poems of Emmeline Grangerford.”
>> > >
>> > > “The House of Beadle & Adams and its Dime and Nickel Novels: The Story of a Vanished Literature” by Albert Johannsen (c1950).
>> > > https://www.ulib.niu.edu/badndp/rexford_eben.html
>> > >
>> > > Full poem:
>> > >
>> > > "A July Day
>> > > by Eben Eugene Rexford
>> > > In idle mood, this happy day,
>> > > I let the moments drift away;
>> > > I lie among the tangled grass
>> > > And watch the crinkling billows pass
>> > > O'er seas of clover. Like a tide
>> > > That sets across the meadow wide,
>> > > The crimson-crested ripples run
>> > > From isles of shade to shores of sun;
>> > > And one white lily seems to be
>> > > A sail upon this summer sea,
>> > > Blown northward, bringing me, to-day,
>> > > A fragrant freight from far Cathay.
>> > >
>> > > Low as the wind that waves the rose
>> > > In gardens where the poppy grows,
>> > > And sweet as bells heard far away,
>> > > A robin sings his song to-day;
>> > > Sings softly, by his hidden nest,
>> > > A little roundelay of rest;
>> > > And as the wind his dwelling swings
>> > > He dreams his dream of unfledged wings,
>> > > While, blending with his song, I hear
>> > > A brook's low babble, somewhere near.
>> > > A glory wraps the hills, and seems
>> > > To weave an atmosphere of dreams
>> > > About the mountain's kingly crest
>> > > As sinks the sun adown the west.
>> > > Earth seems to sit with folded hands
>> > > In peace he only understands
>> > > Who has no care, no vain regret,
>> > > No sorrow he would fain forget,
>> > > And like a child upon her breast
>> > > I lie, this happy day, and rest.
>> > >
>> > > The " green things growing " whisper me
>> > > Of many an earth-old mystery;
>> > > Of blossoms hiding in the mold,
>> > > And what the acorn-cups enfold;
>> > > Of life unseen by eyes too dim
>> > > To look through Nature up to Him
>> > > Who writes the poem of the year
>> > > For human heart, and eye, and ear.
>> > >
>> > > O summer day, surpassing fair,
>> > > With hints of heaven in earth and air,
>> > > Not long I keep you in my hold —
>> > > The book is closed — the tale is told.
>> > > The valley fills with amber mist;
>> > > The sky is gold and amethyst.
>> > > Soft, soft and low, and silver clear
>> > > The robin's vesper hymn I hear,
>> > > And see the stars lit, one by one.
>> > > The happy summer day is done."
>> ...

> Like I said tyrant, ust like Trump, you've know that you can outright do what you call is wrong- right in people's faces and then try to tell people you didn't, because you know your lackeys will accept anything you say as gospel, like a Fundie minister.

> You have been great inspiration for writings against the alt Right, so I must thank you for being such a willing heel!

While you actually are the one spewing more bullshit than even Donald Trump can manage, on your own limited mental scale, Ash.

HTH and HAND.