Its off & on rain in California today. I don’t mind the rain, I like it when it sprinkles lightly as I walk.
A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook, That went to help the sea. Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, What necklaces could be! The dust replaced in hoisted roa The birds jocoser sung; The sunshine threw his hat away, The orchards spangles hung. The breezes brought dejected And bathed them in the glee; The East put out a single flag, And signed the fete away.
– Emily Dickinson.
As neurotic as she was, Emily Dickenson’s poems were still slightly less depressing than Sylvia Plath’s. With poetry, I think you have to be slightly neurotic to really be able to emit any emotion through words in usually stiffly structured phrases.