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    The Point of View

    by Edith Nesbit
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    I

    There was never winter, summer only: roses,
    Pink and white and red,
    Shining down the warm rich garden closes;
    Quiet trees and lawns of dappled shadow,
    Silver lilies, whisper of mignonette,
    Cloth-of-gold of buttercups outspread;
    Good gold sun that kissed me when we met,
    Shadows of floating clouds on sunny meadow.
    In the hay-field, scented, grey,
    Loving life and love, I lay;
    By fresh airs blown, drifted into sleep;
    Slept and dreamed there. Winter was the dream.

    II

    Summer never was, was always winter only;
    Cold and ice and frost
    Only, driven by the ice-wind, lonely,
    In a world of strangers, in the welter
    Of the puddles and the spiteful wind and sleet,
    Blinded by the spitting hailstones, lost
    In a bitter unfamiliar street,
    I found a doorway, crouched there for just shelter,
    Crouched and fought in vain for breath,
    Cursed the cold and wished for death;
    Crouched there, gathered somehow warmth to sleep;
    Slept and dreamed there. Summer was the dream.

    The Point of View: II.

    I

    In the wood of lost causes, the valley of tears,
    Old hopes, like dead leaves, choke the difficult way;
    Dark pinions fold dank round the soul, and it hears:
    "It is night, it is night, it has never been day;
    Thou hast dreamed of the day, of the rose of delight;
    It was always dead leaves and the heart of the night.
    Drink deep then, and rest, O thou foolish wayfarer,
    For night, like a chalice, holds sleep in her hands."

    II

    Then you drain the dark cup, and, half-drugged as you lie
    In the arms of despair that is masked as delight,
    You thrill to the rush of white wings, and you hear:
    "It is day, it is day, it has never been night!
    Thou hast dreamed of the night and the wood of lost leaves;
    It was always noon, June, and red roses in sheaves,
    Unlock the blind lids, and behold the light-bearer
    Who holds, like a monstrance, the sun in his hands."
    If you're writing a The Point of View essay and need some advice, post your Edith Nesbit essay question on our Facebook page where fellow bookworms are always glad to help!

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