The Sheaves A Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson www.poetrynook.com Where long the shadows of the wind had rolled, Green wheat was yielding to the change assigned; And as by some vast magic undivined The world was turning slowly into gold. Like nothing that was ever bought or sold It waited there, the body and the mind; And with a mighty meaning of a kind That tells the more the more it is not told. So in a land where all days are not fair, Fair days went on till on another day A thousand golden sheaves were lying there, Shining and still, but not for long to stay— As if a thousand girls with golden hair Might rise from where they slept and go away. farmingseasonschangemelancholy
What this site is A kind of commonplace book. A kind of digital garden. A kind of Zettelkasten. The front end to a brain. Part research, part dissertation, part art project. A kind of essay, in the sense that it is an attempt. ...but at what? Nick Trombley, barnsworthburning.net What is a commonplace?A Brief History of the Digital GardenZettelkastenare.naHighlighterThe Art of Looking SidewaysReading DesignEssayerGlaspMaintenance and Care gardens