Poetry

There is only beauty and it has only one perfect expression- poetry. All the rest is a lie, except for those who live by the body, love, and, that love of the mind- friendship. For me, Poetry takes the place of love because it is enamored of itself and because its sensual delight falls back deliciously in my soul.

~© Stephane Mallarm~

My Home

This is the place that I love the best,
A little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest,
Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,
Summer retreat of the birds and bees.

The tenderest light that ever was seen
Sifts through the vine-made window screen--
Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls
On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.

All through June the west wind free
The breath of clover brings to me.
All through the languid July day
I catch the scent of new-mown hay.

The morning-glories and scarlet vine
Over the doorway twist and twine;
And every day, when the house is still,
The humming-bird comes to the window-sill.

In the cunningest chamber under the sun
I sink to sleep when the day is done;
And am waked at morn, in my snow-white bed,
By a singing bird on the roof o'erhead.

Better than treasures brought from Rome,
Are the living pictures I see at home--
My aged father, with frosted hair,
And mother's face, like a painting rare.

Far from the city's dust and heat,
I get but sounds and odors sweet.
Who can wonder I love to stay,
Week after week, here hidden away,
In this sly nook that I love the best--
This little brown house like a ground-bird's nest?

~© Edna Wheeler Wilcox~

Just Let The Sun

Just let the sun
Shine on your face
Only the darkness blinds your way

You take it easy
You walk on your own
Look for the sunshine
You'll find your way home

Just let the sun
Find your way home

~© Skin, excerpted lyrics~

In The Light

Dwelling in the light, there is no occasion at all for stumbling, for all things are discovered in the light.

~© George Fox~

The Sensitive Plant

And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.

~© Percy Bysshe Shelley~