0 In the blooming days of my Life 02br 00every minute of recognition was solution 02br 00to the very existence of Life 02br 00the youthful glory under the trees 02br 00in the waking of my knowledge of Life 02br 00and the youthful pranks blossoming like flowers 02br 00in the garden of the very existence. 02br 00The moments of joyful encounters 02br 00with souls of future generations 02br 00coming together to spend youth 02br 00in the hands of loving characters of Love. 02br 00Into Literature of English books of essence 02br 00drooling away the imaginations of candour. 02br 00The very possibility to conquer minds 02br 00Of opposite sex with poetry 02br 00was thrilling to the surround system 02br 00Of ears that listened to Keats and browning as well 02br 00But saw a light at the end of tunnel 02br 00of the glowing path of eternal Love 02br 00with lustful eyes and passionate dreams 02br 00and end up with the majestic dream 02br 00of all time love story of self 02br 00with an ending of educational values 02br 00thrown to the gallery of carelessness. 0-
Top answer
0Isn't the poem a bit confusing?! 050010id1
— Anita_a
0Isn't the poem a bit confusing?!
050010id1
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0 In some respects, I'd rather read blank verse than prose. I find it easier to follow a discourse in iambic pentameter. (So I'm always happy to see experiments.) 02br 02br 00Do you know the poems of Wallace Stevens? He tended to burble a little, in later years; but his earlier poems are interesting. 'Sunday Morning' is a good example of his blank verse. Quite unlike anyone e
0 Sunday Morning, by Wallace Stevens 02br 02br 00I 02br 00Complacencies of the peignoir, and late 02br 00Coffee and oranges in a sunny chair, 02br 00And the green freedom of a cockatoo 02br 00Upon a rug mingle to dissipate 02br 00The holy hush of ancient sacrifice. 02br 00She dreams a little, and she feel