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Recently I shared a poem from William Strode (1602-1645) which was an homage to music. Another of his atmospheric poems emphasises his wonderful sympathy with the elements:

I saw fair Chloris walk alone,
When feather’d rain came softly down,
As Jove descending from his Tower
To court her in a silver shower:

The wanton snow flew to her breast,
Like pretty birds into their nest,
But, overcome with whiteness there,
For grief it thaw’d into a tear:

Thence falling on her garment hem,
To deck her, froze into a gem.

Would that I achieve the same sublime imagery with my own poetry.

Very best wishes – Denny Bradbury

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