My Last Dance Comments
The shell of objects inwardly consumed
Will stand, till some convulsive wind awakes;
Such sense hath Fire to waste the heart of things,
Nature, such love to hold the form she makes.
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'I gave my hand, the old position took' Yielding to life and still recalling all the lost in life's journey.
...Then, like a gallant swimmer, flinging high My breast against the golden waves of sound, Fantastic the exploration of exposing beauty of mind simply with words. Imagery and metaphors are unique.
Such a great poem by Julia Ward Howe......................................
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7/21/2025 6:06:09 PM # 1.0.0
Hmmm... This is a poem I’d like to talk to the author about, getting a sense of her and what she intended. I have the impression she couldn’t live comfortably with the upsides of life, as if a dour or pessimistic stance towards it was what was most proper most of the time. -GK