Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Thou Away, The Very Birds Are Mute


For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

~ William Shakespeare

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

She Turned Away


She turned away, but with the autumn weather
Compelled my imagination many days,
Many days and many hours:
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.

~ T. S. Eliot

Monday, September 18, 2017

Forbear To Judge


Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.

~ William Shakespeare

Sunday, September 17, 2017

I Wish I Were A Primrose


Ring-ting! I wish I were a Primrose,
A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the Spring!

~ William Allingham

Saturday, September 16, 2017

We Walk On Starry Fields Of White


We walk on starry fields of white
And do not see the daisies;
For blessings common in our sight
We rarely offer praises.

~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Thursday, September 14, 2017

All Things New


For now the Heavenly Power
Makes all things new,
And thaws the cold, and fills
The flower with dew.

~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

A Blade Of Grass


A blade of grass is always a blade of grass, whether in one country or another.

~ Samuel Johnson

Like The Body Of A Flower


Look, hasn't my body already felt
like the body of a flower?

~ Mary Oliver

Tuesday, September 12, 2017

My Head Is A Hive Of Words


My head is a hive of words that won't settle.

~ Virginia Woolf

The True Southern Watermelon


The true Southern watermelon is a boon apart, and not to be mentioned with commoner things. It is chief of this world's luxuries, king by the grace of God over all the fruits of the earth. When one has tasted it, he knows what the angels eat. It was not a Southern watermelon that Eve took: we know it because she repented.

~ Mark Twain

Honest Wedlock Is A Glorious Thing


Grave authors say, and witty poets sing,
That honest wedlock is a glorious thing.

~ Alexander Pope

Monday, September 11, 2017

I Almost Wish We Were Butterflies


I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

~ John Keats

I Shut My Eyes


I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

~ Sylvia Plath

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Saturday, September 09, 2017

A Morning-Glory At My Window


A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

~ Walt Whitman

Thursday, September 07, 2017

Quiet Meditation


Quiet meditation is all that is balm
Back into nature is where we find calm.

~ Helen F. Troy

Wednesday, September 06, 2017

Remember


Remember
by Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

In Nature There Is Nothing Melancholy


In Nature there is nothing melancholy.

~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

How Beautiful Are The Retired Flowers!


How beautiful are the retired flowers! – how would they lose their beauty were they to throng into the highway, crying out, "Admire me, I am a violet! Dote upon me, I am a primrose!"

~ John Keats

Tuesday, September 05, 2017

Ah Little Rose


Ah Little Rose – how easy
For such as thee to die!

~ Emily Dickinson

Painting: Withering Rose by Arrate Alonso

Sunday, September 03, 2017

Old Volumes


Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

~ Emily Dickinson

Those Pleasant Dreams Of Early Youth


We'll talk o'er joys we once could prove,
And blithely spend the day,
For those pleasant dreams of early youth
Can never pass away.

~ John Clare

Saturday, September 02, 2017

Music To Hear


Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.

~ William Shakespeare

Friday, September 01, 2017

Who Is More Happy?


Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,
Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
And gentle tale of love and languishment?

~ John Keats