Post photo: Thank you | © Upper holster Venita from Pixabay
Today's poem is from Henry Timrod, which I only became aware of when you Bob Dylan accused from Henry Timrod to have written off. Timrod would have been delighted if Dylan had actually "set" his poems to music.
Sonnet: I thank you
I thank you, kind and best beloved friend,
Henry Timrod, Collected Poems of Henry Timrod: A Variorum Edition (2007)
With the same thanks one murmurs to a sister,
When, for some gentle favor, he hath kissed her,
Less for the gifts than for the love you send,
Less for the flowers than what the flowers convey;
If I, indeed, divine their meaning truly,
And not unto myself ascribe, unduly,
Things which you neither meant nor wished to say,
Oh! tell me, is the hope then all misplaced?
And am I fluttered by my own affection?
But in your beauteous gift, I thought I traced
Something above a short-lived predilection,
And which, for that I know no dearer name,
I designate as love, without love's flame.
There is hardly a much nicer way to say thank you and so I use Timrod's poem to review yesterday evening, which at least for me lasted until around 4 o'clock.
For those who I did not greet by name yesterday, please forgive me. And those who have known me for a while will certainly forgive me for this.
In any case, it was a very successful day, and my thanks therefore also go to Kerstin and Klaus Brenner with her team as well as on Corina Stoll and their employees.
