“Childhood” by Philip Vincent Sanders
“A Sunset Song” by Sandra Fowler
“My Heart Leaps Up” by William Wordsmith
“A Memory” by William Stanley Braithwaite
“Only In Sleep” by Sara Teasdale
“At the Fireside” by John Davis Long
“To Yesterday” by Ruby Archer
“The Return” by John Burroughs
“With Flowers” by Emily Dickinson
“On Memory” by Eliza And Sarah Wolcott
CHILDHOOD
Last night, your long-lost memory came back to me as though Spring stealthily should come to a forsaken wilderness A gentle breeze its fragrance over burning deserts blow Or, all at once be soothed somehow the sick soul’s distress. -PHILIP VINCENT SANDERS-
A SUNSET SONG
I sit beside the hearth fire of your words, A temporary light by feelings heard. Beyond the dark rim, winter’s killing fields Encroach upon a heart by memory sealed. Time like a brave old rooftop slants with snow, Pictures the elegance of far ago, When warm sound was enough to make the cold, Paint a sunset of instrumental gold. -SANDRA FOWLER-
MY HEART LEAPS UP
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. -WILLIAM WORDSMITH-
A MEMORY
My heart to thee an answer makes, O long, slow whisper of the sea, Whose charm of mournful music wakes A dream, a memory. Touched hands, met lips, and soft fair speech Soul’s silence to the past replies, When love and hope illumined each, Within a girl’s blue eyes. -WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE-
ONLY IN SLEEP
Only in sleep I see their faces, Children I played with when I was a child, Louise comes back with her brown hair braided, Annie with ringlets warm and wild. Only in sleep Time is forgotten What may have come to them, who can know? Yet we played last night as long ago, And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair. The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces, I met their eyes and found them mild Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder, And for them am I too a child? -SARA TEASDALE-
AT THE FIRESIDE
At nightfall by the firelight’s cheer My little Margaret sits me near, And begs me tell of things that were When I was little, just like her. Ah, little lips, you touch the spring Of sweetest sad remembering; And hearth and heart flash all aglow With ruddy tints of long ago! I at my father’s fireside sit, Youngest of all who circle it, And beg him tell me what did he When he was little, just like me. -JOHN DAVIS LONG-
TO YESTERDAY
O Yesterday, you saw him. In your warm Sweet light we wandered idly, happily. Unto your deep of blue his eyes were lent, And through your moments lingered yet his voice. Bide near me, Yesterday. You know of him; And I may turn to you-now he is gone Remind you of a glance, a word, a touch, A thousand glints of soul revealed to soul And thus defer the thought of poor To-day. -RUBY ARCHER-
THE RETURN
He sought the old scenes with eager feet The scenes he had known as a boy; “Oh, for a draught of those fountains sweet, And a taste of that vanished joy!” He roamed the fields, he wooed the streams, His schoolboy paths essayed to trace; The orchard ways recalled his dreams, The hills were like his mother’s face. O sad, sad hills! O cold, cold hearth! In sorrow he learned this truth One may return to the place of his birth, He cannot go back to his youth. -JOHN BURROUGHS-
WITH FLOWERS
If recollecting were forgetting, Then I remember not; And if forgetting, recollecting, How near I had forgot! And if to miss were merry, And if to mourn were gay, How very blithe the fingers That gathered these to-day! -EMILY DICKINSON-
ON MEMORY
Life is sweeten’d by thy power, And the fallen years return, Draws the eurtain from an hour, Thither we a lesson learn. Take the veil from former years, Brightens eyes bedim’d with grief, Sooths our sorrows and our tears, Thither may we find relief. Mem’ry cheers in joy or wo, Though our earthly hopes are riven, Though our tears awhile may flow, Soon our bark may rest in heaven. -ELIZA AND SARAH WOLCOTT-
