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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Leonine Elegiacs (1830)
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Low-flying breezes are roaming the broad valley dimm’d in the
gloaming;
Thro’ the black-stemm’d pines only the far river shines.
Creeping thro’ blossomy rushes and bowers of rose-blowing
bushes,
Down by the poplar tall rivulets babble and fall.
Barketh the shepherd-dog cheerly; the grasshopper carolleth
clearly;
Deeply the wood-dove coos; shrilly the owlet halloos;
Winds creep; dews fall chilly: in her first sleep earth breathes
stilly:
Over the pools in the burn water-gnats murmur and mourn.
Sadly the far kine loweth; the glimmering water outfloweth;
Twin peaks shadow’d with pine slope to the dark hyaline.
Low-throned Hesper is stayed between the two peaks; but the
Naiad
Throbbing in mild unrest holds him beneath in her breast.
The ancient poetess singeth that Hesperus all things bringeth,
Smoothing the wearied mind: bring me my love, Rosalind.
Thou comest morning or even; she cometh not morning or even.
False-eyed Hesper, unkind, where is my sweet Rosalind?


True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are, it requires you to be who you are.
— Brené Brown