origin story

(in Highland Park, by Hampton Burwick on Fb)

Listen to the Pouring Rain.

     "Rue des Vents III.

This is the dusk-hour when for old love's sake
Ghosts in this garden might arise and move
Down vanished paths, and memories might wake
Out of the death tht is so chill to love.
You whose old sins have in the later time
Become a legend perilous and sweet
With tragic whisperings of courtly rhyme,--
Lovely dead chatelaine!--are these your feet
That now across my silence slowly pace
Thrilling the darkness of this garden-close?
Turn!...No, this is no golden harlot's face,--
This is the bud that is not yet the rose,
This is a ghost of things that never were,
This is a child. The dusk grows sweet with her.

--Arthur Davison Ficke

$2 a Day.