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Saturday, July 29, 2017

Let Me Flower As I Will

God, let me flower as I will!
For I am weary of the chill
Companionship of cloistered vines
And hothouse-nurtured columbines;
Oh, weary of the pruning-knife
That shapes my prim decorous life --
Of clambering trellises that hold me,
Of flawless patterned forms that mold me.

God, let me flower as I will!
A shaggy rambler on the hill --
Familiar with April's growing pain
Of green buds bursting after rain.
Oh, let me hear among the sheaves
Of autumn, the song of wistful leaves,
The lullaby of the brook that dallies
Among the high blue mountain valleys.
And may my comrades be but these:
Birds on the bough, and guzzling bees
Among my blossoms, as they sup
On the dew in my silver-petaled cup.

God, let my parching roots go deep
Among the cold green springs, and keep
Firm grip upon the mossy edges
Of imperishable granite ledges,
That thus my body may withstand
The avalanche of snow and sand,
The trample of the years, the flail
Of whipping wind and bouncing hail.
And when December with its shroud
Of fallen snow and leaden cloud,
Shall find me in the holiday
Of slumber, shimmering and gray
Against the sky -- and in the end,
My somber days shall hold no friend
But a whimpering wolf, and on the tree
A frozen bird -- so may it be.
For in that day I shall have won
The glory of the summer sun;
My leaves, by windy fingers played,
An eerie music shall have made;
I shall have known in some far land
The tender comfort of a Hand,
And the liquid beauty of a Tongue
That finds its syllables among
Wild wind and waterfall and rill --
God, let me flower as I will!

~ Lou Soret

Found in My Mother's Poetry Notebook

This one makes my heart ache with missing my mom, gratitude for who she was, and joy for her example to me.  God bless Almeda for ever and ever.

Easter by Auslander

Easter

     Be not too solemn on this day
     You who hurry forth to pray:
For the Lord who rose from death
Was once a child of Nazareth
Romping hither, running thence,
Happy in His innocence,
And in children found again
Faith that lifts the hearts of men.
Childlike faith, as quick and kind,
Can move mountains from the mind;
     You who hurry forth to pray
     Ponder this on Easter day.

~ Joseph Auslander

found in My Mother's Poetry Notebook

Friday, July 28, 2017

He will abide with thee.

Beautiful thoughts are those that bear
On the wings of love, a silent prayer
Over the mountains, or over the sea,
That His peace may ever abide with thee.
Abide with thee when the shadows fall,
When the day is done and the night birds call,
When the morning comes and the shadows flee,
I know He still will abide with thee.

Untitled by Unknown
Found in my Mothers Poetry Notebook

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Weave Lovely Dreams

Weave lovely dreams, my dear.  Use golden string
For warp and rainbow stuff and stars for woof,
But make your fairest pictures simple things: --
A little house beneath a lowered roof,
A garden running round, a swing where grass
Is worn away by happy children's feet,
Gay curtains, friendly chairs and shining glass,
And every joy that makes a home compete.

Dream much of sun and song and being glad,
As laughing lips and eyes adoring you.
But weave a share of rain and being sad,
For never can the dream of her come true
Who draws too gay a plan for her career,
Or shuts her eyes to living,
O my dear!

Untitled
Unknown author
Found in my mother's poetry notebook

Monday, March 13, 2017

A Prayer To The God Of Nature

A Prayer To The God Of Nature

God of the roadside weed,
Grant I may humbly serve the humblest need.

God of the scarlet rose,
Give me the beauty that Thy love bestows.

God of the honey bees,
Help me to reach deep joys from all I see.

God of the spider's lure,
Let me, from mine own heart, unwind such grace.

God of the lilly's cup,
Till me! I hold the empty chalice up.

God of the sea -gull's wings,
Bear me above each dark and turbulent thing.

God of the watchful owl,
Help me to see at midnight, like this fowl.

God of the antelope,
Teach me to scale the highest crags of Hope.

God of the burrowing mole,
Let cold earth have no terror for my soul.

God of the chrysalis
Grant that my grave may be a call of bliss.

God of the butterfly,
Help me to vanquish Death, although I die.

~  Fredric Lawrence Knowles

From my mother's poetry notebook




Hang Me Among Your Winds

Hang Me Among Your Winds

Hang me among your winds, O God,
     Above the tremulous stars,
Like a harp of quivering silver strings,
     Showering, as it swings,
          Its tuneful bars
     Of eerie music on the earth.

Play over me, God,
     Your cosmic melodies;
The gusty overture for Spring's
     Caprice and wayward April's mirth;
          The sensuous serenade
     Of summer, languid in the alder glade;
          The wistful symphonies
     Of Autumn; and Winter's rhapsodies
          Among the drifted dunes --
     Her lullabies and her torrential tunes
Moody with wild cadenzas, with fitful stress
          And poignant soundlessness.

Touch me, O God, with but a gesture --
     And let each finger sweep
Over my strings until they leap
     With life; and rain
Their silver chimes upon the plain,
In harmonies of far celestial spaces
     Of high and holy places.

~ Lew Sarett

From my mother's poetry notebook