I don't like Time's Fancy as much as I did The Makings of Happiness, but I think this is partly because much of Time's Fancy is considerably darker, which isn't really what I was expecting. Perhaps this is why I liked "The Life Next at Hand" so much; it's the first poem in the book, and it has the sense of wonder that I associate with Wallace. I
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I love the infinite potential in the sonnet as a form, honestly. And this is a marvelous one. (And oh, "that small cup of promises" -- yeah.)
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I'm very pleased that I was right about thinking you'd like this one. *g*
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