April 19, 2010


 *WORDS*. . .  my weekly posting of a poem, a quote and a passage from literature.


When the warm sun, that brings
Seed-time and harvest, has returned again,
'Tis sweet to visit the still wood, where springs
The first flower of the plain.

I love the season well,
When forest glades are teeming with bright forms,
Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell
The coming-on of storms.

From the earth's loosened mould
The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives;
Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold,
The drooping tree revives.

The softly-warbled song
Comes from the pleasant woods, and colored wings
Glance quick in the bright sun, that moves along
The forest openings.

When the bright sunset fills
The silver woods with light, the green slope throws
Its shadows in the hollows of the hills,
And wide the upland glows.

And when the eve is born,
In the blue lake the sky, o'er-reaching far,
Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn,
And twinkles many a star.

Inverted in the tide,
Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw,
And the fair trees look over, side by side,
And see themselves below.

Sweet April!--many a thought
Is wedded unto thee, as hearts are wed;
Nor shall they fail, till, to its autumn brought,
Life's golden fruit is shed.

 ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Every artist dips his brush in his own soul, and paints his own nature into his pictures.  
                                  ~Henry Ward Beecher


"He spied the colts at once. Down at the far end of the meadow, they were stretched out in a joyous run, their tails floating on the wind. Gulping a deep breath, Joel went racing in the dew to meet them. He tried to shout to them, to call their names, but the wind rushed at him, smothering his voice."
 ~from Justin Morgan Had a Horse

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