shapes of the "cattle and horses," there is another reality, less easy to grasp. It begins with haze, through which we marvel at the sweeping plains and panoramas of the epic American landscape, so unlike the contained, undulating lines of the English countryside. Our eyes strain to see what is beyond the haze, but everything fades at the horizon into blankness and bliss.If poetry is anything, it is a door.
from Christopher Nield: The Epoch Times: The Antidote--Classic Poetry for Modern Life: A Reading of 'A Farm-Picture' by Walt Whitman
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