Classic poem of the day
Droops thy bough, oh Cedar tree,
Like yon dear, yon aged form,—
Droops thy bough in sympathy,
For the wreck of life's sad storm!
Sad, indeed, his weary age,—
Lonely, now, his princely home,—
And the thoughts his soul engage,
Are of winter and the tomb!
'Twas for this, oh Cedar tree,
Verdant midst the wintry strife,
'Twas for this he planted thee,
Type of an immortal life,—
That when round his grave in tears
Bro......
Member poem of the day
I was born looking up.
My arms outstretched,
feet arched
and ready to leap.
The world said
“We don’t have space
for someone so soft,
someone so sweet.”
It was fire they wanted,
In the form of sharp teeth.
I listened to them,
but forgot how to breathe.
They said to be strong,
I couldn’t cry.
They said to be worthy,
I couldn’t be shy.
They used words for my kind...
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