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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Weakest Thing, The (1844)
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Which is the weakest thing of all
Mine heart can ponder?
The sun, a little cloud can pall
With darkness yonder?
The cloud, a little wind can move
Where’er it listeth?
The wind, a little leaf above,
Though sere, resisteth?

What time that yellow leaf was green,
My days were gladder;
But now, whatever Spring may mean,
I must grow sadder.
Ah me! a leaf with sighs can wring
My lips asunder —
Then is mine heart the weakest thing
Itself can ponder.

Yet, Heart, when sun and cloud are pined
And drop together,
And at a blast, which is not wind,
The forests wither,
Thou, from the darkening deathly curse
To glory breakest, —
The Strongest of the universe
Guarding the weakest!


As ideas are always better than their execution, so too must dough taste better than cookies.
— Horisun