The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Friday, George Washington's Office, The 100

A March Snow
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Let the old snow be covered with the new:
The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.
Let it be hidden wholly from our view
By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.
When Winter dies, low at the sweet Spring's feet
Let him be mantled in a clean, white sheet.

Let the old life be covered by the new:
The old past life so full of sad mistakes,
Let it be wholly hidden from the view
By deeds as white and silent as snow-flakes.

Ere this earth life melts in the eternal Spring
Let the white mantle of repentance fling
Soft drapery about it, fold on fold,
Even as the new snow covers up the old.


My Thursday was very quiet compared to my Wednesday. I did a bunch of work, went to the food store and CVS, went with Paul to pick up the car which was having its broken rear seat belt repaired, and went for a walk to see whether any bunnies were out munching before the arrival of tonight's expected snow (we saw both the bunnies who live around the corner, which was a relief). Plus we watched my weekly Voyager episode and most of the Terps game, which they won easily over Illinois. And for a change I did not detest Mitt Romney.

The 100 was great tonight -- I'm very sad about the Big Thing that happened though I know it was expected, but I love that on that show, women are so much the focus and get to do all the things usually reserved for men in that kind of story -- it's like a wholly feminist mash-up of Game of Thrones and Battlestar Galactica with some Planet of the Apes thrown in. Elementary is always entertaining but I don't think this week's passed the Bechdel Test. Some photos of George Washington's office in Winchester circa 1755 while Fort Loudon was being built:


  • Greetings from the Canal

    It rained early in the morning on Friday and again in the afternoon -- the first thunderstorm of the season, which displeased the kittens so much…

  • Poem for Friday and Canal Thursday

    Letter Beginning with Two Lines by Czesław Miłosz By Matthew Olzmann You whom I could not save, Listen to me. Can we agree Kevlar backpacks…

  • Poem for Thursday and McCrillis Flowers

    A Violin at Dusk By Lizette Woodworth Reese Stumble to silence, all you uneasy things, That pack the day with bluster and with fret. For here…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded