The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls

The tide rises, the tide falls,

The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;

Along the sea-sands damp and brown

The traveller hastens toward the town,

      And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Chesapeake Bay, Ferrell McCollough

Darkness settles on roofs and walls,

But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;

The little waves, with their soft, white hands,

Efface the footprints in the sands,

      And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls

Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;

The day returns, but nevermore

Returns the traveller to the shore,

      And the tide rises, the tide falls.

South Carolina, Ferrell McCollough

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Children's Hour

Mother's Silhouette, 2011, Jeniffer Sams

Between the dark and the daylight,

   When the night is beginning to lower,

Comes a pause in the day's occupations,

   That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me

   The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened,

   And voices soft and sweet.

Silhouette of a Daughter, 2011, Jeniffer Sams

From my study I see in the lamplight,

   Descending the broad hall stair,

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,

   And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:

   Yet I know by their merry eyes

They are plotting and planning together

   To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,

   A sudden raid from the hall!

By three doors left unguarded

   They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

   O'er the arms and back of my chair;

If I try to escape, they surround me;

   They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,

   Their arms about me entwine,

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen

   In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

His Mother's Love, 2012, Jeniffer Sams

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,

   Because you have scaled the wall,

Such an old mustache as I am

   Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,

   And will not let you depart,

But put you down into the dungeon

   In the round-tower of my heart.

Their Heart, 2012, Jeniffer Sams

And there will I keep you forever,

   Yes, forever and a day,

Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

   And moulder in dust away!

~ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Nolan's birthday is Leap Day and he is a joy for his parents, his uncle, his great grandparents, and me... his Gee

Nolan, the joy of all our hearts!

Sand Of The Desert In An Hour-Glass

A handful of red sand, from the hot clime

  Of Arab deserts brought,

Within this glass becomes the spy of Time,

  The minister of Thought.

How many weary centuries has it been

  About those deserts blown!

How many strange vicissitudes has seen,

  How many histories known!

Camel Caravan

Perhaps the camels of the Ishmaelite

  Trampled and passed it o'er,

When into Egypt from the patriarch's sight

  His favorite son they bore.

Perhaps the feet of Moses, burnt and bare,

  Crushed it beneath their tread;

Or Pharaoh's flashing wheels into the air

  Scattered it as they sped;

Or Mary, with the Christ of Nazareth

  Held close in her caress,

Whose pilgrimage of hope and love and faith

  Illumed the wilderness;

Palm Trees at En Gedi (Engaddi)

Or anchorites beneath Engaddi's palms

  Pacing the Dead Sea beach,

And singing slow their old Armenian psalms

  In half-articulate speech;

Dead Sea Beach

Or caravans, that from Bassora's gate

  With westward steps depart;

Or Mecca's pilgrims, confident of Fate,

  And resolute in heart!

Mecca

These have passed over it, or may have passed!

  Now in this crystal tower

Imprisoned by some curious hand at last,

  It counts the passing hour,

And as I gaze, these narrow walls expand;

  Before my dreamy eye

Stretches the desert with its shifting sand,

  Its unimpeded sky.

And borne aloft by the sustaining blast,

  This little golden thread

Dilates into a column high and vast,

  A form of fear and dread.

And onward, and across the setting sun,

  Across the boundless plain,

The column and its broader shadow run,

  Till thought pursues in vain.

The vision vanishes!  These walls again

  Shut out the lurid sun,

Shut out the hot, immeasurable plain;

  The half-hour's sand is run!

Hourglass Sunset, 2009, Bluesbandit Photo

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I often come back to this poem because it reminds me that no matter where we are, who we are, what we do.... someone has come before us, walked on the path we are on, seen the sights we have seen, tried something we are learning, and made their mark - slight or grand on this world.... All marks on the world matter.... the slightest of marks in the sands of time may one day prove to have the greatest of impact on humanity. ~ Fred

A Psalm of Life

What the Heart of the Young Man Said to the Psalmist

Foggy Morning at Cedar Lake, 2013, Erin She Hulk Schafer

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

"Life is but an empty dream!"

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"

Was not spoken of the soul.

Foggy Morning at Cedar Lake, 2013, Erin She Hulk Schafer

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

Finds us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

A Man Rappelling to His Bivouac on the East Face of Poi, Bobby Model

In the world's broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,--act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints In The Sand, Trudy Wilkerson

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing

Learn to labor and to wait.

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow