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Sunday Morning and Wordsworth
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Wordsworth wrote,
"It is a beauteous evening, calm and free / The holy time is quiet as a Nun / Breathless with adoration."
I could substitute 'morning' for 'evening' just now. It is still and calm and quiet. I can hear the birds chirping and my old dog breathing and, far in the distance, the swoosh of cars on the freeway. It has to be exceptionally quiet for me to hear it. An airplane just passed, far overhead, too far to see, but I could hear its roar. And wasn't that an Amtrak train whistle way off thataway?

Wasn't it also Wordsworth who wrote,
"The world is too much with us / Late and soon, getting and spending / We lay waste our powers. / Little we see in Nature that is ours..."?
Must look it up some time; it's one of my favorites.

In high school we scorned Wordsworth as trite and wordy -- and now I'm quoting him. Must have had something worth saying, after all. Husband has just turned on KNX News 1070. Quiet time is over.

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