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Jules

 

Jules.
 
The day that Margaret Dumont died.
The date of Barrett Browning's birth.
Before The Ides of March arrived
your time began on earth.
 
In Ancient Rome the year began.
At home it is the start of things
as life in veins of leaf and man
runs new in early spring.
 
Each March is when the bluebells come
and birds lay eggs in tight knit nests.
When most of winter's days are done
and cold sharp frost's at rest.
 
Hylid monath, the stormy days,
or so the Anglo Saxons said.
Or Martius, in Roman ways
when life leaves slumbered beds.
 
In you came, the sixth day born
a glow of light, on dreary street.
Four ten and eight the years have torn
through pain and joy and feat.
 
Now we're round to spring again
it's time to celebrate your birth,
for never has there been a gem
or finer jewel unearthed.
 

◄ Past Midnight

Cliff ►

Comments

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Neil Fawcett

Wed 6th Mar 2013 11:16

Thanks Harry.

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Harry O'Neill

Tue 5th Mar 2013 00:14

I like the way the three beat last lines `sum`the preeceeding four beat three lines of the stanzas.Also the history/seasonal `fetches` into the poem.

It`s not `soppy`

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Neil Fawcett

Sat 2nd Mar 2013 20:16

Soppy birthday poem.

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