Luke 17

Nylig innså jeg at jeg liker poesi. Det er mange fine dikt der ute, og mange flinke diktere. Jeg tror nok at det fineste diktet jeg vet er Nothing gold can stay av Robert Frost. I recently realized that I enjoy poetry. But there are many great poems out there, and many skilled poets. I think my favourite poem is Nothing gold can stay by Robert Frost.

Nature's first green is gold, 
Her hardest hue to hold. 
Her early leaf's a flower; 
But only so an hour. 
Then leaf subsides to leaf. 
So Eden sank to grief, 
So dawn goes down to day. 
Nothing gold can stay. 

Det nest-fineste diktet er av Edgar Allan Poe, og heter A dream within a dream. The second-nicest poem I know is by Edgar Allan Poe, and it’s called A dream within a dream.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow:
You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep 
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


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