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waywardness resulting from an early traumatic experience, and The Broken Landscape (1949), a collection of poetry. Upon completing his MA Williams enrolled at the University of Missouri, teaching and working on his Ph.D. in English Literature, which he obtained in 1954. In the fall of 1955 Williams
Readers of poetry see the factory-village, and the railway, and fancy that the poetry of the landscape is broken up by these; for these works of art are not yet consecrated in their reading; but the poet sees them fall within the great Order not less than the beehive, or the spider's geometrical web.
It’s not about shoving heartbreak aside, but learning to carry it, along with everything else life still holds. Poem 8: “ Wild Geese ” by Mary Oliver. Oliver has nature speak about vastness and belonging. Images like those geese honking high overhead remind you the world’s always been bigger than your one heartache.
It broke our hearts to lose you. You did not go alone. The day God called you home. Your love is still our guide. You are always at our side. The chain will link again. We little knew that day, God was going to call your name. In life we loved you dearly, In death, we do the same. It broke our hearts to lose you.
The Broken Circle. I STOOD On Sarum's treeless plain, The waste that careless Nature owns; Lone tenants of her bleak domain, Loomed huge and gray the Druid stones. Upheaved in many a billowy mound. The sea-like, naked turf arose, Where wandering flocks went nibbling round. The mingled graves of friends and foes.
Only a Simple Rhyme by Ella Wheeler Wilcox. I Smile, But Oh! My Heart is Breaking. by Mary E. Tucker. Love lies Bleeding by Christina Rossetti. The Fisher's Wife by Susan Rhyce Beckwith. Highland Mary by Robert Burns. The Broken Heart by Bernhardt Paul Holst. My Woodland Bride by George Pope Morris.
That the wheel has broken . is Mechanics 101; to keep dreaming when the joke’s on you? Well, crazier legends have been written. Grief is the constant now; hope, the last word spoken . on a motel balcony, shouted in a hotel kitchen. No kin can make this journey for you. The route’s locked in. Who comforts you now that the wheel has broken
