The Force That Through the Green Fuse Drives The Flower / Drives my green age
inspired by sasha, i headed up into the mountains and forests by myself for a little adventure yesterday.
i wore this dress gifted to me from emily.
you remember this little sears jr. bazaar get-up? well, this lovely little purple patchwork dress emily found at eco-thrift is same brand, same era, same line.
and she gave it to me.
i'm in LOVE.
it's also emily's crocheted vest; i'm lucky to have lady friends with good taste who like to share!
it was a lovely, sparkling, sunny, hidden day deep in the mountains. i followed a tiny dirt fireroad that winds down into a canyon. i was on the search for wildflowers but i think a lot of it was too shady. i did find fireweed, wild sweetpea, giant dandelions, ferns, and some bright fire engine red blossom.
it was a perfect break from the hustle and bustle of my life lately.
i have lots more photos of some dresses i modeled for my shop, but for now i figured i'd share just my own personal little journey and the blessings of the mountain forest.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood, that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.
The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.
The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.
And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.