By George Darley
O'er golden sands my waters flow,
With pearls my road is paven white,
Upon my banks sweet flowers blow,
And amber rocks direct me right.
Look in my mother-spring; how deep
Her dark-green waters, yet how clear!
For joy the pale-eyed stars do weep
To see themselves so beauteous here.
Her pebbles all to emeralds turn,
Her mosses fine as Nereid's hair,
Bright leaps the crystal from her urn,
As pure as dew and twice as rare.
Taste of the wave, 'twill charm thy blood,
And make thy cheek outbloom the rose,
'Twill calm thy heart and clear thy mood,
Come! sip it freshly as it flows.
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Thursday was only a bit cooler than Wednesday, but it rained from late morning through most of the afternoon, quite hard at times, so that by the time we got to the park in the late afternoon, many of the crocuses had been flattened by the water. Other than a long, lovely phone conversation with my onetime college roommate and good friend, I didn't do anything exciting; we had another contractor out to look at the bathrooms and I sorted some of our children's books.
Kristen had told me that she had never seen Thor, so I watched the first hour of that with her over Zoom (always awesome). We had breakfast for dinner (eggs, sausages, English muffins) and watched this week's Ghosts before my usual Thursday night video chat with fandom friends, followed by the Mayfair Witches we missed while watching the Super Bowl. Here is some of the art displayed at Green Spring Gardens, including mixed media trees by Miriam Cutelis:
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