Poem for Today ~ Wonder and Joy

Wonder and Joy

Robert Jeffers

The things that one grows tired of—O, be sure
They are only foolish artificial things!
Can a bird ever tire of having wings?
And I, so long as life and sense endure,
(Or brief be they!) shall nevermore inure
My heart to the recurrence of the springs,
Of gray dawns, the gracious evenings,
The infinite wheeling stars. A wonder pure
Must ever well within me to behold
Venus decline; or great Orion, whose belt
Is studded with three nails of burning gold,
Ascend the winter heaven. Who never felt
This wondering joy may yet be good or great:
But envy him not: he is not fortunate.

Source

Poem for Today ~ Wonder and Joy

Wonder and Joy

Robinson Jeffers

The things that one grows tired of—O, be sure
They are only foolish artificial things!
Can a bird ever tire of having wings?
And I, so long as life and sense endure,
(Or brief be they!) shall nevermore inure
My heart to the recurrence of the springs,
Of gray dawns, the gracious evenings,
The infinite wheeling stars. A wonder pure
Must ever well within me to behold
Venus decline; or great Orion, whose belt
Is studded with three nails of burning gold,
Ascend the winter heaven. Who never felt
This wondering joy may yet be good or great:
But envy him not: he is not fortunate.

 

Source

Inspiring Quote for Today ~ It’s All Good

“I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.”

Og Mandino

Today’s Positive Thought ~ What Are You Thinking About?

“The strangest secret in the world is that you become what you think about (Earl Nightingale).” 

Lots of times thoughts just pop in my head. Other times, I can think about a problem and not let it go until I have figured out how to resolve it.  These are things that are normal. Between these two types of thinking there is a lot of space to think about things. If I’m thinking about how to accomplish my dreams, about how I can become a better a better person, or how I can contribute to my church and community, my mind is in a good space. If I let my mind ruminate on negative past experiences or regrets, situations that make me angry, or ways to get even, I’m wallowing in the mud. Better to soar among the stars and let our minds play with thoughts that elevate us.

Today’s Poem ~ Miracles

Miracles.
Walt Whitman
WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new moon in spring;
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that like me best—mechanics, boatmen,
farmers,
Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to the opera,
Or stand a long while looking at the movements of machinery,
Or behold children at their sports,
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or the perfect old woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to burial,
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass;
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring—yet each distinct, and in its place.

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all that
concerns
them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.

To me the sea is a continual miracle;
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion of the waves—the ships, with men
in
them,
What stranger miracles are there?

Today’s Poem ~ Who Am I?

Who am I?
Carl Sandburg
My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading “Keep Off.”My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.

Stars – Poem of Gratitude by Sara Teasdale

Stars

by Sara Teasdale

  Alone in the night

   On a dark hill

  With pines around me

   Spicy and still,

  And a heaven full of stars

   Over my head,

  White and topaz

   And misty red;

  Myriads with beating

   Hearts of fire

  That aeons

   Cannot vex or tire;

  Up the dome of heaven

   Like a great hill,

  I watch them marching

   Stately and still,

  And I know that I

   Am honored to be

  Witness

   Of so much majesty.

“The Stars Are Mansions Built by Nature’s Hand” Poem by William Wordsworth

The Stars Are Mansions Built by Nature’s Hand

THE stars are mansions built by Nature’s hand,

And, haply, there the spirits of the blest

Dwell, clothed in radiance, their immortal vest;

Huge Ocean shows, within his yellow strand,

A habitation marvelously planned,

For life to occupy in love and rest;

All that we see–is dome, or vault, or nest,

Or fortress, reared at Nature’s sage command.

Glad thought for every season! but the Spring

Gave it while cares were weighing on my heart, 

‘Mid song of birds, and insects murmuring;

And while the youthful year’s prolific art–

Of bud, leaf, blade, and flower–was fashioning

Abodes where self-disturbance hath no part.

 

%d bloggers like this:
Verified by MonsterInsights