the wild honeysuckle
by philip freneau
fair flower, that dost so comely grow,
hid in this silent, dull retreat,
untouched thy honied blossoms blow,
unseen thy little branches greet:
no roving foot shall crush thee here,
no busy hand provoke a tear.
by nature's self in white arrayed,
she bade thee shun the vulgar eye,
and planted here the guardian shade,
and sent soft waters murmuring by,
thus quietly thy summer goes,
thy days declining to repose.
smit with those charms, that must decay,
i grieve to see your future doom;
they died--nor were those flowers more gay,
then flowers that did in eden bloom;
unpitying frosts and autumn's power,
shall leave no vestige of this flower.
from morning suns and evening dews
at first thy little being came;
if nothing once, you nothing lose,
for when you die you are the same;
the space between is but an hour,
the frail duration of a flower.
maybe this is a bit of a melancholy poem for such a bright and sunny morning, but it fits my pensive mood. my mom gets out of rehab on tuesday and will join my dad in the assisted living apartment they have. my dad has been staying with my sister in the evenings since he started wandering at night. we're hoping he will feel more settled in the apartment at night with my mom there.
morgana is painting knitting needle knobs for the little girls she knows in austria. chanda is rereading the last harry potter book (which we just finished reading aloud with morgana), and greg is doing a crossword puzzle (well now he's singing with the radio in the kitchen). i was looking for poems and sipping jasmine green tea while writing here . . we're thinking of going to a yoga class today.
