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Showing posts from May, 2020

Anne Bronte Remembered

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Charlotte Bronte drawing of Anne Bronte Bronte Parsonage Museum
‘I have no horror of death: if I thought it inevitable, I think I could quietly resign myself to the prospect . . . But I wish it would please God to spare me, not only for papa’s and Charlotte’s sakes, but because I long to do some good in the world before I leave it. I have many schemes in my head for future practice - humble and limited indeed - but still I should not like them all to come to nothing, and myself to have lived to so little purpose. But God’s will be done.’ - Anne Brontë
Anne Bronte Memorial Stone
On the Death of Anne Brontë BY CHARLOTTE BRONTË There's little joy in life for me,       And little terror in the grave; I 've lived the parting hour to see       Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,       Wishing each sigh might be the last; Longing to see the shade of death       O'er those belovèd features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part       The darl…

Remembering poet and painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti On His Birthday

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Insomnia BY DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI Thin are the night-skirts left behind  By daybreak hours that onward creep,  And thin, alas! the shred of sleep  That wavers with the spirit's wind:  But in half-dreams that shift and roll  And still remember and forget,  My soul this hour has drawn your soul  A little nearer yet. 
Our lives, most dear, are never near,  Our thoughts are never far apart,  Though all that draws us heart to heart  Seems fainter now and now more clear.  To-night Love claims his full control,  And with desire and with regret  My soul this hour has drawn your soul  A little nearer yet. 
Is there a home where heavy earth  Melts to bright air that breathes no pain,  Where water leaves no thirst again  And springing fire is Love's new birth?  If faith long bound to one true goal  May there at length its hope beget,  My soul that hour shall draw your soul  For ever nearer yet.

Remembering Mom on Mother’s Day!

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My beloved mom and me
The Mother Moon By Louisa May Alcott  THE moon upon the wide sea  Placidly looks down, Smiling with her mild face, Though the ocean frown.  Clouds may dim her brightness, But soon they pass away,  And she shines out, unaltered, O'er the little waves at play.  So 'mid the storm or sunshine, Wherever she may go,  Led on by her hidden power  The wild see must plow. 
As the tranquil evening moon  Looks on that restless sea,  So a mother's gentle face,  Little child, is watching thee.  Then banish every tempest,  Chase all your clouds away,  That smoothly and brightly  Your quiet heart may play.  Let cheerful looks and actions  Like shining ripples flow,  Following the mother's voice,  Singing as they go. Reprinted from the Saturday Evening Gazette, August 23, 1856.