When I was a child on Rag Rock blueberries surprised me
Near shady trees.
The berries revealed a dark, sparkling blue and caught a deep, rich,
Soft, warm footpaths can be quietly followed
Warmed by the heavenly sun.
Some summer days white clouds greet the bright, dancing sky
With a happy welcome!
A cliff not far from the woods where
A little berrying still can be done,
Might have helped an old, sacred homeland at one time
From being overrun.
Way up high this threshold purely enchants us
With a magnificent sight.
The cliff is now softly taken only by the
Coming early twilight.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Rag Rock by Gayle Sweeney )
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(5 November 1850 - 30 October 1919)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
William Cullen Bryant
(November 3, 1794 – June 12, 1878)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
(10 February 1970-)
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