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Sun, 09 Aug 2009
Memoir 1887 - 1937, George Rostrevor Hamilton. Beauty beyond belief

So how can this be Adam and Eve.... Easy!
These are the tales of first love, lasting love.
Of sadness and partings, happiness and longings.
Each one is special to someone, or something. Enjoy.

the rose
is called Dorthea,

1887 ~ 1937

She would often, small and alone in the great garden,
Watch by the hour
                   Her come-as-you-like thoughts weaving
                   Tales for her own deceiving,
Of ogres, grizzly bears, grave knights and chubby princes:

And yet would delight --- a refuge from bright danger ---
In the actual feel
                   Of the gravelly drive, the springing
                   Lawn, or the musty clinging
Smell of the potting-shed with its cool and church-like darkness.

(1902 - 1904)
the rose
is called Dorthea,
Quiet at school, she found but few companions:
Envied almost
                   The noisy, red-faced stocky
                   Champions of hockey
Who found the world a vast excuse to giggle.

The mistresses observed --- and felt uneasy ---
Her inward gaze.
                     Did that abstracted vision
                     Hold them in cool derision?
Or was she merely wayward, absent-minded?

She could be quick, original, disconcerting
With odd replies.
                      At leaving, her report
                      Was frigid; said in short
They'd done their best, but she had not responded.

IIIthe rose
is called Dorthea,

Beauty came with unexpected brightness,
Hidden so long.
                       She did not know,
                       Herself, the different self whose glow
Seemed caught from this new custom of men's praises.
Posted 19:24

1 comment

The poem is fairly long, and you will find I have placed an intermission roughly half way. It is a very good match to the story. I love this piece of prose. Pay attention to the stops and comma's then it flows gently and sweetly to it's grave ending. hugs xxx Dodie
Posted by Dodie

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