BW29: Sonnet by Alice Moore Dunbar Nelson

Courtesy of Blackpast.org

Sonnet

by

Alice Moore Dunbar Nelson

July 19, 1875 - September 18, 1935

I had not thought of violets late,

The wild, shy kind that spring beneath your feet

In wistful April days, when lovers mate

And wander through the fields in raptures sweet.

The thought of violets meant florists' shops,

And bows and pins, and perfumed papers fine;

And garish lights, and mincing little fops

And cabarets and soaps, and deadening wines.

So far from sweet real things my thoughts had strayed,

I had forgot wide fields; and clear brown streams;

The perfect loveliness that God has made,—

Wild violets shy and Heaven-mounting dreams.

And now—unwittingly, you've made me dream

Of violets, and my soul's forgotten gleam.

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This week our Brit Trip is taking us for second visit to Dorset.  During WWII its location allowed it to be involved in the preparations for the Normandy Beach invasion.

Rabbit trails: Exercise Tiger

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