New Discoveries

One can never be "too old" not "too young" for education.

I've been having these really great conversations lately about books with my friend and sister, "Bkwurm".




I found this poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay in a book she had lying out on the kitchen counter:

Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart
I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain,
And lie disheveled in the grass apart,
A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain,
While rainy evening drips to misty night
And misty night to cloudy morning clears,
And clouds disperse across the gathering light,
And birds grow noisy, and the Sun appears--
Had I bethought me then, sweet love, sweet thorn,
How sharp an anguish even at the best,
When alls requited and the future sworn
The happy hour can leave within the breast,
I had no so come running at the call
Of one who loves me little, if at all. -- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I was talking to J earlier and sort of teasing her about Emily Dickinson's poetry. I heard recently that most of her poems can be sung to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas" and also the theme song to "Gilligan's Island".

So, I found a book of Emily's prose and this poem struck me:

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me. -- Emily Dickinson

So, time for bed, the little one said...........

~~Mama