For the Birds

And I waterd it in fears,

Night & morning with my tears:

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

—Blake, "A Poison Tree"

Only a catastrophe can save us

Now, the troglodyte me contends,

Retreating to his cave, he makes no fuss;

There's really nothing that on him depends.

The apple on the poison tree is all

The fruit that he can see, and there's no foe

Outstretched beneath to lighten up the pall.

Could meditation truly make amends??

Somewhere a hopeful optimist I know

Slumbers in a stocious forest's shade,

He's long outlived most of his whileom friends,

Dreams in that imbricated woodland glade.

Once built a mighty tower for the birds.

But coming there, they come up with no words.

https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/stocious

Friday, November 7, 2025

  words.