I saw thee once— once only— years ago:I must not say how many — but not many.
It was a July midnight; and from out
A full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring,
Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven, There fell a silvery-silken veil of light,
With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber,
Upon the upturned faces of a thousand
Roses that grew in an enchanted garden,
Where no wind dared to stir, unless on tiptoe--
Fell on the upturn’d faces of these roses
That gave out, in return for the love-light,
Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death —
Fell on the upturn’d faces of these roses
That smiled and died in this parterre, enchanted
By thee, and by the poetry of thy presence.
When I read the beginning of Poe's poem above, I feel surrounded by Spring. Yet, I look outside my window, and the skies are overcast. The air weeps.
I read:
Upon the upturned faces of a thousandThe "enchanted garden" has a thousand "upturned faces," and they're multicultural. They are the faces of humanity. Beautiful in their hue-arrays.
Roses that grew in an enchanted garden,
Despite the weather, I see Spring.
That gave out, in return for the love-light,"[L]ove-light" shines in each of the "upturned" faces. Each is an odorous soul, and its fragrance remains long after its release.
Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death
Open this: Create flower power! And start clicking on the letters, then add clicks in blank areas.
Have fun. Create Spring!
