Happiness is evanescent, but in your poem it perfuses the clouds, flowers, birdsong, and your enjoyment of swinging. Memory makes them into a fabric in which happiness is anchored. I love the line SOMEHOW THE CLOUDS GOT INTO MY SONG.
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Happiness is evanescent, but in your poem it perfuses the clouds, flowers, birdsong, and your enjoyment of swinging. Memory makes them into a fabric in which happiness is anchored. I love the line SOMEHOW THE CLOUDS GOT INTO MY SONG.