For mothers and anyone who’s mothered a child or grandparent or friend or beloved, from poetryfoundation.org.
from A Mother to Her Waking Infant / by Joanna Baillie
Thy smooth round cheek so soft and warm;
Thy pinky hand and dimpled arm;
Thy silken locks that scantly peep,
With gold tipped ends, where circle deep,
Around thy neck in harmless grace,
So soft and sleekly hold their place
…Perhaps when time shall add a few
Short years to thee, thou’lt love me too;
And after that, through life’s long way,
Become my sure and cheering stay
Well, let the repeats begin a day early. I have a request for “hope” on this most hope – filled night of the year. So, it must be dear Emily. Happy New Year’s Eve.
from “Hope” is the thing with feathers / by Emily Dickinson
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
An essential repeat, from poetryfoundation.org. Merry day.
from A Visit from St. Nicholas / by Clement Clarke Moore
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there
For the upcoming week, from poetryfoundation.org.
from The New-England Boy’s Song about Thanksgiving Day / by Lydia Maria Child (1802–1880 )
Over the river, and through the wood,
With a clear blue winter sky,
The dogs do bark,
And children hark,
As we go jingling by.
For faith, from poetryfoundation.org.
from Faith / by Frances Anne Kemble
Better trust all, and be deceived,
And weep that trust, and that deceiving;
Than doubt one heart, that, if believed,
Had blessed one’s life with true believing.
For troubled histories, from poetryfoundation.org.
from You Say, Columbus with his Argosies / by Trumbull Stickney
I then do answering say to you: The line
Of wizards and of saviours, keeping trust
In that which made them pensive and divine,
Passes before us like a cloud of dust.
For houses empty and full and also for those empty though full, from Poem A Day, Volume 2, edited by Laurie Sheck.
from All Hushed and Still within the House / by Emily Brontë (1818-1848)
Through rain and through the wailing wind,
For saltimbanques, from The Poetry of Surrealism, edited by Michael Benedikt.
from Phantom of the Clouds / by Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918) translated by Michael Benedikt
A tiny spirit without the least human burden
And this music of shapes and forms
Drowned out that of the mechanical organ
Ground out by the man with his face covered with his own ancestors
For chrysanthemums and books, from Poem A Day, edited by Laurie Sheck.
from Solitary Living in Early Winter / by Ema Saiko (1787-1862), translated by Hiroaki Saiko
This innermost room, with little to do,
is adequate to commit my plain life to.
For everlasting watch and moveless woe, from Poem A Day, Volume 2, edited by Laurie Sheck.
from Grief / by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet.
If it could weep, it could arise and go.