by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
All love at first, like generous wine, Ferments and frets until ‘tis fine; But when ‘tis settled on the lee, And from th’ impurer matter free, Becomes the richer still the older, And proves the pleasanter the colder. –– Samuel Butler Why are my daughters not beautiful, lamented ancient…