And taking but a prayer

=0=0=0=

P l u c k

Elmwood Cemetery

Charlotte, North Carolina

=0=0=0=

I had no Cause to be awake --

My Best -- was gone to sleep --

And Morn a new politeness took --

And failed to wake them up --

But called the others -- clear --

And passed their Curtains by --

Sweet Morning -- When I oversleep --

Knock -- Recollect -- to Me --

I looked at Sunrise -- Once --

And then I looked at Them --

And wishfulness in me arose --

For Circumstance the same --

'Twas such an Ample Peace --

It could not hold a Sigh --

'Twas Sabbath -- with the Bells divorced --

'Twas Sunset -- all the Day --

So choosing but a Gown --

And taking but a Prayer --

The only Raiment I should need --

I struggled -- and was There --

= Emily Dickinson =

=0=0=0=

Happy Saturday

Weeping when she rose

=0=0=0=

F o l l o w s

Bonaventure Cemetery

Savannah, Georgia

=0=0=0=

God's acre was her garden-spot, she said;
She sat there often, of the Summer days,
Little and slim and sweet, among the dead,
Her hair a fable in the leveled rays.

She turned the fading wreath, the rusted cross,
And knelt to coax about the wiry stem.
I see her gentle fingers on the moss
Now it is anguish to remember them.

And once I saw her weeping, when she rose
And walked away and turned to look around --
The quick and envious tears of one that knows
She shall not lie in consecrated ground.

= Dorothy Parker =

=0=0=0=

Happy Friday

The great work of time

=0=0=0=

B e s e e c h

Elmwood Cemetery

Memphis, Tennessee

=0=0=0=

I saw the civil sun drying earth’s tears --
Her tears of joy that only faster flowed,

Fain would I stretch me by the highway side,
To thaw and trickle with the melting snow,
That mingled soul and body with the tide,
I too may through the pores of nature flow.

But I alas nor tinkle can nor fume,
One jot to forward the great work of Time,
‘Tis mine to hearken while these ply the loom,
So shall my silence with their music chime.

= Henry David Thoreau =

=0=0=0=

Happy Thursday

Sans peur et sans reproche

=0=0=0=

P a r l a n c e

Elmwood Cemetery

Columbia, South Carolina

=0=0=0=

Voice of the summerwind,
Joy of the summerplain,
Life of the summerhours,
Carol clearly, bound along.
No Tithon thou as poets feign
(Shame fall 'em they are deaf and blind)
But an insect lithe and strong,
Bowing the seeded summerflowers.
Prove their falsehood and thy quarrel,
Vaulting on thine airy feet.
Clap thy shielded sides and carol,
Carol clearly, chirrup sweet
Thou art a mailèd warrior in youth and strength complete;
Armed cap-a-pie,
Full fair to see;
Unknowing fear,
Undreading loss,
A gallant cavalier
Sans peur et sans reproche,
In sunlight and in shadow,
The Bayard of the meadow.

= Alfred, Lord Tennyson =

=0=0=0=

Happy Wednesday

The world's little children

=0=0=0=

E r i c a   J e a n

Taylor Street Alley

Columbia, South Carolina

=0=0=0=

Ere my heart beats too coldly and faintly
To remember sad things, yet be gay,
I would sing a brief song of the world's little children
Magic hath stolen away.

The primroses scattered by April,
The stars of the wide Milky Way,
Cannot outnumber the hosts of the children
Magic hath stolen away.

The buttercup green of the meadows,
The snow of the blossoming May,
Lovelier are not than the legions of children
Magic hath stolen away.

The waves tossing surf in the moonbeam,
The albatross lone on the spray,
Alone know the tears wept in vain for the children
Magic hath stolen away.

In vain: for at hush of the evening,
When the stars twinkle into the grey,
Seems to echo the faraway calling of children
Magic hath stolen away.

= Walter de la Mare =

=0=0=0=

Happy Tuesday