It was a day of feeling. It was our world, the lake at our back, in front of us the cars scooting past. We were in no hurry where we sat. It seemed right, with nothing to make us leave or want to leave, but then those cars reminded us of worlds going in so many directions. Without wanting to admit it, this too had its beautiful side because of being so futile, this bother and rush people persisted in as if nothing else existed; that if this was what they persisted in doing then it was possible nothing else did exist. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF H-- A-- by BERNARD BARTON LINES WRITTEN IN SWITZERLAND by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES IN MEMORY OF MY DEAR GRANDCHILD ELIZABETH .. WHO DECEASED 1665 by ANNE BRADSTREET |