Glorious to the sight

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M y s t e r i a

Wisteria Growing Wild

Columbia, South Carolina

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Stars wheel in purple, yours is not so rare
as Hesperus, nor yet so great a star
as bright Aldeboran or Sirius,
nor yet the stained and brilliant one of War;

stars turn in purple, glorious to the sight;
yours is not gracious as the Pleiads are
nor as Orion’s sapphires, luminous;

yet disenchanted, cold, imperious face,
when all the others blighted, reel and fall,
your star, steel-set, keeps lone and frigid tryst
to freighted ships, baffled in wind and blast.

= H.D. =

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Happy Tuesday

A mind may sparkle much

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P a n e s t a k i n g   P r o g r e s s

South Carolina Lunatic Asylum

Columbia

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By the stream I dream in calm delight,

and watch as in a glass,

How the clouds like crowds of snowy-hued

and white-robed maidens pass,

And the water into ripples breaks

and sparkles as it spreads,

Like a host of armored knights

with silver helmets on their heads.

And I deem the stream an emblem

fit of human life may go,

For I find a mind may sparkle much

and yet but shallow show,

And a soul may glow with myriad lights

and wondrous mysteries,

When it only lies a dormant thing

and mirrors what it sees.

= Paul Laurence Dunbar =

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Happy Monday

Never thirst again

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W i l d   C r o s s i n g

Saint John in the Wilderness Episcopal Church Cemetery

Flat Rock, North Carolina

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There is a river

And it flows from deep within

There is a fountain

That frees the soul from sin

Come to this water

There is a vast supply

There is a river

That never shall run dry

There was a thirsty woman

She was drawing from a well

Her life was ruined and wasted

And her soul was bound for Hell

But then she met the Master

And He told her of her sin

He said, Child, if you'll drink this water

You'll never thirst again

There is a river

And it flows from deep within

There is a fountain

That frees the soul from sin

Come to this water

There is a vast supply

There is a river

That never shall run dry.

= Jimmy Swaggart =

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And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal,

proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb.

= Revelation 22:1 =

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Happy Sunday

There lives the dearest freshness

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T h e   L i o n ' s   S h a r e

Elmwood Cemetery

Memphis, Tennessee

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The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

= Gerard Manley Hopkins =

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Happy Saturday

Nor time nor space

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W e l c o m e

Old Sheldon Church Ruins

Yemassee, South Carolina

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Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.

= John Burroughs =

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Dedicated to the memory of

Mary Elizabeth Cassidy Sandifer

October 15, 1918 - April 6, 1981

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Happy Friday