A winter in retirement

by Hannah Blaney Washburn

Will never be forgot. From that green lane

Extends a pathway, bordered with wild shrubs,

Ascending to the summit of a Rock,

That Rock of fame, surnamed the “Lover’s Leap.”

Not this, the Rock of old, whence Sappho sprang,

And, plunging in the cold and pitiless flood,

Ended, at once, her love, and her sad life;

For no deep water, flowing at the base

Of this steep Rock, offers so quick a cure

For hopeless love, nor do I know, in truth,