You'll find the round-up at HipWriterMama.
I've meant to use this poem in Poetry Friday for a long time now. It's one of those that I've remembered, at least for theme and message, since the first time I read it 20 years ago. See what you think.
by Amy Lowell
I walk down the garden paths,
And all the daffodils
Are blowing, and the bright blue squills.
I walk down the patterned garden-paths
In my stiff, brocaded gown.
With my powdered hair and jewelled fan,
I too am a rare
Pattern. As I wander down
The garden paths.
My dress is richly figured,
And the train
Makes a pink and silver stain
On the gravel, and the thrift
Of the borders.
Just a plate of current fashion,
Tripping by in high-heeled, ribboned shoes.
Not a softness anywhere about me,
Only whalebone and brocade.
And I sink on a seat in the shade
Of a lime tree. For my passion
Wars against the stiff brocade.
The daffodils and squills
Flutter in the breeze
As they please.
And I weep;
For the lime-tree is in blossom
And one small flower has dropped upon my bosom.
Go here for the rest of the poem. See if it sticks with you too.
Oh, and here's an odd little audio recording of the poem. It's not bad, if you can get past the music.