In aspen woods there is a sacred space,
Which by the Bones I think the Crow had roost,
And there I took my craft: needle, thread, and lace,
And sewed Love’s idol. But not Cupid I’produced,
Home of the Logophrasis Sunday Essay
In aspen woods there is a sacred space,
Which by the Bones I think the Crow had roost,
And there I took my craft: needle, thread, and lace,
And sewed Love’s idol. But not Cupid I’produced,
I received a letter in the mail today from a Mr. William S. It seems he had heard of the predicament of Life I’d found myself in, and so sent me a Sonnet as consolation. Poetry often serves to calm what is a troubled soul of mine.