Though I have climbed the Alps where eagles fly,
And walked the seven hills encircling Rome,
I've never felt more kindred to the sky,
Than on these reservations you call Home.
And walked the seven hills encircling Rome,
I've never felt more kindred to the sky,
Than on these reservations you call Home.
Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni
1888-1970
Poet Laureate of Arkansas
1953-1970
To this Main Street, a mystic hour glass,
Through which life and mystic waters flow,
I have returned to watch the old year pass,
And the new year advance through the veils of snow.
Through which life and mystic waters flow,
I have returned to watch the old year pass,
And the new year advance through the veils of snow.
"Through the veils of snow"
Hot Springs, Arkansas in the aftermath of
a Christmas snow and ice storm in 2012
In April I have come to welcome Spring,
When the magnolia blossoms burst in bloom,
And lent my ear to nightingales that sing
Along the race track to a Summer moon.
These hills are alters to which I must return
To light a candle, and to watch it burn.
Southern Spring Beauty
Japanese Saucer Magnolia
Hot Springs National Park
Arkansas
"Hot Springs"
A poem by
Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni
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