My name is Jennifer. I love photography!
This blog is a 365 project where I will be posting one photo a day for a complete year.


I currently use:
Nikon D90 - 18-105mm Nikkor f/3.5-5.6 - 50mm f/1.8D
Visit my original tumblr blog here: iamarobot.tumblr.com

 

189/365

Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood
Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs  No school of long experience, that the world  Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen  Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,  To tire the of it, enter this wild wood  And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade  Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze  That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm  To thy sick heart. Thou wilt find nothing here  Of all that pained thee in the haunts of men,  And made thee loathe thy life.  The primal curse  Fell, it is true, upon the unsinning earth,  But not in vengeance. God hath yoked to guilt  Her pale tormentor, misery. Hence, these shades  Are still the abodes of gladness; the thick roof  Of green and stirring branches is alive  And musical with birds, that sing and sport  In wantonness of spirit; while below  The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect,  Chirps merrily. Throngs of insects in the shade  Try their thin wings and dance in the warm beam  That waked them into life. Even the green trees  Partake the deep contentment; as they bend  To the soft winds, the sun from the blue sky  Looks in and sheds a blessing on the scene.  Scarce less the cleft-born wild-flower seems to enjoy  Existence, than the wingèd plunderer  That sucks its sweets. The mossy rocks themselves,  And the old and ponderous trunks of prostrate trees  That lead from knoll to knoll a causey rude  Or bridge the sunken brook, and their dark roots,  With all their earth upon them, twisting high,  Breathe fixed tranquility. The rivulet  Sends forth glad sounds, and tripping o’er its bed  Of pebble sands, or leaping down the rocks,  Seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice  In its own being. Softly tread the marge,  Lest from her midway perch thou scare the wren  That dips her bill in water. The cool wind,  That stirs the stream in play, shall come to thee,  Like one that loves thee nor will let thee pass  Ungreeted, and shall give its light embrace.
-William Cullen Bryant
(Photograph taken 18JUL10)

189/365

Inscription for the Entrance to a Wood

Stranger, if thou hast learned a truth which needs
No school of long experience, that the world
Is full of guilt and misery, and hast seen
Enough of all its sorrows, crimes, and cares,
To tire the of it, enter this wild wood
And view the haunts of Nature. The calm shade
Shall bring a kindred calm, and the sweet breeze
That makes the green leaves dance, shall waft a balm
To thy sick heart. Thou wilt find nothing here
Of all that pained thee in the haunts of men,
And made thee loathe thy life. The primal curse
Fell, it is true, upon the unsinning earth,
But not in vengeance. God hath yoked to guilt
Her pale tormentor, misery. Hence, these shades
Are still the abodes of gladness; the thick roof
Of green and stirring branches is alive
And musical with birds, that sing and sport
In wantonness of spirit; while below
The squirrel, with raised paws and form erect,
Chirps merrily. Throngs of insects in the shade
Try their thin wings and dance in the warm beam
That waked them into life. Even the green trees
Partake the deep contentment; as they bend
To the soft winds, the sun from the blue sky
Looks in and sheds a blessing on the scene.
Scarce less the cleft-born wild-flower seems to enjoy
Existence, than the wingèd plunderer
That sucks its sweets. The mossy rocks themselves,
And the old and ponderous trunks of prostrate trees
That lead from knoll to knoll a causey rude
Or bridge the sunken brook, and their dark roots,
With all their earth upon them, twisting high,
Breathe fixed tranquility. The rivulet
Sends forth glad sounds, and tripping o’er its bed
Of pebble sands, or leaping down the rocks,
Seems, with continuous laughter, to rejoice
In its own being. Softly tread the marge,
Lest from her midway perch thou scare the wren
That dips her bill in water. The cool wind,
That stirs the stream in play, shall come to thee,
Like one that loves thee nor will let thee pass
Ungreeted, and shall give its light embrace.

-William Cullen Bryant

(Photograph taken 18JUL10)