CHOPIN
Betwixt the upper Mill-stoneYesAnd the nether Mill-stoneNo,Whence comethburrandburrandburrAnd much noise of quarrel,The Miller poured the hopper fullOf corn from the bag,And in the corn lay one violet,(Maybe the farmer's little girl dropped it inWhen the boy went to the bin to fill the bag).Andburrquoth the upper Mill-stone,Andburr you back againthe nether,And the violet was ground with the corn,But passed not into the bag with the meal,Thank God!The odor of crushed violet flew forthAnd passed about the ages;And men here and there had a senseOf somewhat rich and high-intense,Dewy, fiery, dear, forlorn,Delicate, grave, new out of the morn,But saturate yetWith the night despair that every flower will wet.
Betwixt the upper Mill-stoneYesAnd the nether Mill-stoneNo,Whence comethburrandburrandburrAnd much noise of quarrel,The Miller poured the hopper fullOf corn from the bag,And in the corn lay one violet,(Maybe the farmer's little girl dropped it inWhen the boy went to the bin to fill the bag).Andburrquoth the upper Mill-stone,Andburr you back againthe nether,And the violet was ground with the corn,But passed not into the bag with the meal,Thank God!The odor of crushed violet flew forthAnd passed about the ages;And men here and there had a senseOf somewhat rich and high-intense,Dewy, fiery, dear, forlorn,Delicate, grave, new out of the morn,But saturate yetWith the night despair that every flower will wet.
Betwixt the upper Mill-stoneYesAnd the nether Mill-stoneNo,Whence comethburrandburrandburrAnd much noise of quarrel,The Miller poured the hopper fullOf corn from the bag,And in the corn lay one violet,(Maybe the farmer's little girl dropped it inWhen the boy went to the bin to fill the bag).Andburrquoth the upper Mill-stone,Andburr you back againthe nether,And the violet was ground with the corn,But passed not into the bag with the meal,Thank God!The odor of crushed violet flew forthAnd passed about the ages;And men here and there had a senseOf somewhat rich and high-intense,Dewy, fiery, dear, forlorn,Delicate, grave, new out of the morn,But saturate yetWith the night despair that every flower will wet.
Betwixt the upper Mill-stoneYes
And the nether Mill-stoneNo,
Whence comethburrandburrandburr
And much noise of quarrel,
The Miller poured the hopper full
Of corn from the bag,
And in the corn lay one violet,
(Maybe the farmer's little girl dropped it in
When the boy went to the bin to fill the bag).
Andburrquoth the upper Mill-stone,
Andburr you back againthe nether,
And the violet was ground with the corn,
But passed not into the bag with the meal,
Thank God!
The odor of crushed violet flew forth
And passed about the ages;
And men here and there had a sense
Of somewhat rich and high-intense,
Dewy, fiery, dear, forlorn,
Delicate, grave, new out of the morn,
But saturate yet
With the night despair that every flower will wet.
[Credo, and Other Poems]
[Credo, and Other Poems]
[Credo, and Other Poems]
[Credo, and Other Poems]