Swift it slipped its limit

>>>>++<<<<

A r d e n t

Graceland Cemetery

Chicago, Illinois

>>>>++<<<<

He gave away his Life --

To Us -- Gigantic Sum --

A trifle -- in his own esteem --

But magnified -- by Fame --

Until it burst the Hearts

That fancied they could hold --

When swift it slipped its limit --

And on the Heavens -- unrolled --

'Tis Ours -- to wince -- and weep --

And wonder -- and decay

By Blossoms gradual process --

He chose -- Maturity --

And quickening -- as we sowed --

Just obviated Bud --

And when We turned to note the Growth --

Broke -- perfect -- from the Pod --

> Emily Dickinson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Saturday

Bear his mild yoke

>>>>++<<<<

P o i s e d   F o r   F l i g h t

Kensico Cemetery

Valhalla, New York

>>>>++<<<<

When I consider how my light is spent,
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”
I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need
Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”

> John Milton <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Friday

Music of the other world

>>>>++<<<<

L o v e ,   L i g h t ,   S w e e t n e s s

Christmas Table

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

When snow is shaken
From the balsam trees
And they're cut down
And brought into our houses

When clustered sparks
Of many-colored fire
Appear at night
In ordinary windows

We hear and sing
The customary carols

They bring us ragged miracles
And hay and candles
And flowering weeds of poetry
That are loved all the more
Because they are so common

But there are carols
That carry phrases
Of the haunting music
Of the other world
A music wild and dangerous
As a prophet's message

Or the fresh truth of children
Who though they come to us
From our own bodies

Are altogether new
With their small limbs
And birdlike voices

They look at us
With their clear eyes
And ask the piercing questions
God alone can answer.

> Anne Porter <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Thursday :: Merry Christmas

Grace has a face

>>>>++<<<<

L o v e   L i g h t

Christmas Hearth

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

In search of a child they traveled so far
Led by a star to a place of joy
Now the wise men tell a beautiful story
Describing the glory of a baby boy.

Hope has hands, freedom has feet
Truth will stand, the Word will speak
The holy and lowly will finally embrace
For love has a heartbeat

And grace has a face.

Compassion has a tear, joy has a laughter
And here ever after, peace has a smile
Redemption's blood has veins to flow in
A temple to glow in

Light is a child.

Hope has hands, freedom has feet
Truth will stand, the Word will speak
The holy and lowly will finally embrace
For love has a heartbeat

And grace has a face.

> Phil Cross <

>>>>++<<<<

Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.

I Corinthians 9:15

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Wednesday  ::  Merry Christmas Eve

Upward thro' the gloom

>>>>++<<<<

S t e a d y   O n

Back Fence

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

I was not; now I am -- a few days hence
I shall not be; I fain would look before
And after, but can neither do; some Power
Or lack of power says “no” to all I would.
I stand upon a wide and sunless plain,
Nor chart nor steel to guide my steps aright.
Whene’er, o’ercoming fear, I dare to move,
I grope without direction and by chance.
Some feign to hear a voice and feel a hand
That draws them ever upward thro’ the gloom.
But I -- I hear no voice and touch no hand,
Tho’ oft thro’ silence infinite I list,
And strain my hearing to supernal sounds;
Tho’ oft thro’ fateful darkness do I reach,
And stretch my hand to find that other hand.
I question of th’ eternal bending skies
That seem to neighbor with the novice earth;
But they roll on, and daily shut their eyes
On me, as I one day shall do on them,
And tell me not the secret that I ask.

> Paul Laurence Dunbar <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Tuesday

As if the world had just begun

>>>>++<<<<

G o t h i c   G l o a m i n g

Green Mount Cemetery

Baltimore, Maryland

>>>>++<<<<

Light has killed the winter and all dark dreams.
Now winds live all in light,
Light has come down to earth and blossoms here,
And we have golden minds.
From out the long shade of a road high-bankt,
I came on shelving fields;
And from my feet cascading,
Streaming down the land,
Flickering lavish of daffodils flowed and fell;
Like sunlight on a water thrill'd with haste,
Such clear pale quivering flame,
But a flame even more marvellously yellow.
And all the way to Ryton here I walkt
Ankle-deep in light.
It was as if the world had just begun;
And in a mind new-made
Of shadowless delight
My spirit drank my flashing senses in,
And gloried to be made
Of young mortality.
No darker joy than this
Golden amazement now
Shall dare intrude into our dazzling lives:
Stain were it now to know
Mists of sweet warmth and deep delicious colour,
Those lovable accomplices that come
Befriending languid hours.

> Lascelles Abercrombie <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Monday :: Happy December

What autumn knew would happen

>>>>++<<<<

I t ' s   G l o w   T i m e

Heritage Park

Henry County, Georgia

>>>>++<<<<

Stripped
you're beginning to float free
up through the smoke of brushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won't hold you
nor the radar aerials

You're what the autumn knew would happen
after the last collapse
of primary color
once the last absolutes were torn to pieces
you could begin

How you broke open, what sheathed you
until this moment
I know nothing about it
my ignorance of you amazes me
now that I watch you
starting to give yourself away
to the wind

> Adrienne Rich <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Monday

A fresh and solemn splendor

>>>>++<<<<

C l o s e   R o s e s

Bonaventure Cemetery

Savannah, Georgia

>>>>++<<<<

Still, still with Thee, when purple morning breaketh
When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee
Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee.

Alone with Thee, amid the mystic shadows
The solemn hush of nature newly born
Alone with Thee in breathless adoration
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

As in the dawning o’er the waveless ocean
The image of the morning star doth rest
So in the stillness Thou beholdest only
Thine image in the waters of my breast.

Still, still with Thee, as to each newborn morning
A fresh and solemn splendor still is given
So does this blessèd consciousness, awaking
Breathe each day nearness unto Thee and Heaven.

When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer
Sweet the repose beneath the wings o’ershading
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there.

So shall it be at last, in that bright morning
When the soul waketh and life’s shadows flee
O in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with Thee.

> Harriet Beecher Stowe <

>>>>++<<<<

Abide in me, and I in you.

As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself,

except it abide in the vine;

no more can ye, except ye abide in me.

John 15:4

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Sunday

A grant of the divine

>>>>++<<<<

W e ' l l   L e a v e   T h e   L i g h t   O n

Old Brick Church Graveyard

Jenkinsville, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Did Our Best Moment last --

'Twould supersede the Heaven --

A few -- and they by Risk -- procure --

So this Sort -- are not given --

Except as stimulants -- in

Cases of Despair --

Or Stupor -- The Reserve --

These Heavenly Moments are --

A Grant of the Divine --

That Certain as it Comes --

Withdraws -- and leaves the dazzled Soul

In her unfurnished Rooms

> Emily Dickinson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Saturday

It is something to have been

>>>>++<<<<

H o m e   o f   t h e   B r a v e

National Cemetery

Salisbury, North Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

It is something to have wept as we have wept,
It is something to have done as we have done,
It is something to have watched when all men slept,
And seen the stars which never see the sun.

It is something to have smelt the mystic rose,
Although it break and leave the thorny rods,
It is something to have hungered once as those
Must hunger who have ate the bread of gods.

To have seen you and your unforgotten face,
Brave as a blast of trumpets for the fray,
Pure as white lilies in a watery space,
It were something, though you went from me today.

To have known the things that from the weak are furled,
Perilous ancient passions, strange and high;
It is something to be wiser than the world,
It is something to be older than the sky.

In a time of sceptic moths and cynic rusts,
And fattened lives that of their sweetness tire
In a world of flying loves and fading lusts,
It is something to be sure of a desire.

Lo, blessed are our ears for they have heard;
Yea, blessed are our eyes for they have seen:
Let the thunder break on man and beast and bird
And the lightning. It is something to have been.

> G.K. Chesterton <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Friday