Dear
Family, Friends, & Colleagues:
May Day is
this coming Sunday! Jack Frost has gone North for his summer vacation! We can
enjoy flowers, birds, and trees as the springtime exuberantly celebrates this
delightful holiday! Here are some poems to help you get started with your May
Day celebration, with a nod to Arbor Day (tomorrow, April 29th) to
start us off.
“Trees”
(1914)
By
Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)
I think
that I shall never see
A poem
lovely as a tree.
A tree
whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the
earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that
looks at God all day,
And lifts
her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that
may in Summer wear
A nest of
robins in her hair;
Upon whose
bosom snow has lain;
Who
intimately lives with rain.
Poems are
made by fools like me,
But only
God can make a tree.
"To
A Butterfly" (1801)
By
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
I've
watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! -- not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! -- not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
This plot
of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wings when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
Stay near
me -- do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family!
Oh!
pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey: -- with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey: -- with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.
“The
Flowers”
By
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)
From A
Child's Garden of Verses (1885)
All the
names I know from nurse:
Gardener's
garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's
buttons, Lady's smock,
And the
Lady Hollyhock.
Fairy
places, fairy things,
Fairy woods
where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees
for tiny dames --
These must
all be fairy names!
Tiny woods
below whose boughs
Shady
fairies weave a house;
Tiny
tree-tops, rose or thyme,
Where the
braver fairies climb!
Fair are
grown-up people's trees,
But the
fairest woods are these;
Where, if I
were not so tall,
I should
live for good and all.
Have a
great weekend, everyone!
Rob
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