Thursday, August 16, 2018
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8 weeks old baby (Photo credit: Wikipedia) Three Weeks Old By Algernon Charles Swinburne Three weeks since there was no such rose in being; Now may eyes made dim with deep delight See how fair it is, laugh with love, and seeing Praise the chance that bids us bless the sight. Three weeks old, and a very rose of roses, Bright and sweet as love is sweet and bright. Heaven and earth, till a man’s life wanes and closes, Show not life or love a lovelier sight. Three weeks past have renewed the rosebright creature Day by day with life, and night by night. Love, though fain of its every faultless... (Read More ...)

Laughter (Photo credit: Wikipedia) Tell me if this isn’t a description of grandchildren visiting in the summer, then going back home and to school in September.   Sunrise By Algernon Charles Swinburne If the wind and the sunlight of April and August had mingled the past and hereafter In a single adorable season whose life were a rapture of love and of laughter, And the blithest of singers were back with a song; if again from his tomb as from prison, If again from the night or the twilight of ages Aristophanes had arisen, With the gold-feathered wings of a bird that were also a god... (Read More ...)

Six Years Old Algernon Charles Swinburne. A true poet from Cartoon portraits and biographical sketches of men of the day (Photo credit: Wikipedia) By Algernon Charles Swinburne   To H.W.M. Between the springs of six and seven, Two fresh years’ fountains, clear Of all but golden sand for leaven, Child, midway passing here, As earth for love’s sake dares bless heaven, So dare I bless you, dear. Between two bright well-heads, that brighten With every breath that blows Too loud to lull, too low to frighten, But fain to rock, the rose, Your feet stand fast, your lit smiles lighten, That... (Read More ...)

Seven Years Old Four loaves. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) By Algernon Charles Swinburne   I. Seven white roses on one tree, Seven white loaves of blameless leaven, Seven white sails on one soft sea, Seven white swans on one lake’s lee, Seven white flowerlike stars in heaven, All are types unmeet to be For a birthday’s crown of seven. II. Not the radiance of the roses, Not the blessing of the bread, Not the breeze that ere day grows is Fresh for sails and swans, and closes Wings above the sun’s grave spread, When the starshine on the snows is Sweet as sleep on sorrow shed, III. Nothing... (Read More ...)

Baby garden spider on a stamen of lacy phacelia (Photo credit: Wikipedia) In a Garden  Baby, see the flowers! – Baby sees Fairer things than these, Fairer though they be than dreams of ours. Baby, hear the birds! – Baby knows Better songs than those, Sweeter though they sound than sweetest words. Baby, see the moon! – Baby’s eyes Laugh to watch it rise, Answering light with love and night with noon. Baby, hear the sea! – Baby’s face Takes a graver grace, Touched with wonder what the sound may be. Baby, see the star! – Baby’s hand Opens, warm and... (Read More ...)

For all those new Grandmas out there, anticipating the feel of a new baby’s fingers wrapped around yours. Hands clenched in fists. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) A Clasp of Hands     I Soft, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers That bask in heavenly heat When bud by bud breaks, breathes, and cowers, Soft, small, and sweet. A babe’s hands open as to greet The tender touch of ours And mock with motion faint and fleet The minutes of the new strange hours That earth, not heaven, must mete; Buds fragrant still from heaven’s own bowers, Soft, small, and sweet. II A velvet vice... (Read More ...)

A Child’s Future D Sharon Pruitt original owner of the photo. A child’s cry for peace. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) What will it please you, my darling, hereafter to be? Fame upon land will you look for, or glory by sea? Gallant your life will be always, and all of it free. Free as the wind when the heart of the twilight is stirred Eastward, and sounds from the springs of the sunrise are heard: Free, and we know not another as infinite word. Darkness or twilight or sunlight may compass us round, Hate may arise up against us, or hope may confound; Love may forsake us; yet may not the spirit... (Read More ...)

My two grandchildren are 7 years old. What a glorious description of them.   Painting of a young Algernon Charles Swinburne, English author and poet. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) A Child’s Laughter All the bells of heaven may ring, All the birds of heaven may sing, All the wells on earth may spring, All the winds on earth may bring All sweet sounds together; Sweeter far than all things heard, Hand of harper, tone of bird, Sound of woods at sundawn stirred, Welling water’s winsome word, Wind in warm wan weather, One thing yet there is, that none Hearing ere its chime be done Knows not well... (Read More ...)