DPF / Baillie

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

DPF / Dickinson

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 –

DPF / Child

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.


DPF / Stickney

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.

DPF / Apollinaire

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
Everybody thought
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