When I was young my mother would often read to me from my favorite set of books, The Bookshelf for Boys and Girls. She bought the set new shortly after I was born and many happy hours were spent there in childhood and beyond. In fact, I still enjoy visiting old friends that live within the pages of those books!
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| Photo Credit |
I don't have the exact set of books now that my mother bought when I was a baby, but I do have an identical set. My cousin, who often shared the adventures found within the pages of those books with me, found an identical set of them at a yard sale many years ago and bought them for me. My children were raised on them and, now, the books are available to my grandchildren who also enjoy partaking of the adventures...Mother Goose, children's classics, things to make and do, historical figures, fairy tales, poetry, and more are there for the taking.
One of my mother's favorite poets was Robert Louis Stephenson. She would often find his poems in the set of books and read them to me as a child. In thinking about summer, this one came to mind...
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| Robert Louis Stephenson |
BED IN SUMMER
by Robert Louis Stephenson
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
Now, while I do enjoy the works of Robert Louis Stephenson immensely, and other poets as well, I think I'd have to name Edgar Allen Poe as my personal favorite. In keeping with the summer theme, this poem comes to mind...
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| Edgar Allen Poe |
EVENING STAR
by Edgar Allen Poe
’Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro’ the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold--too cold for me--
There pass’d, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.
by Edgar Allen Poe
’Twas noontide of summer,
And mid-time of night;
And stars, in their orbits,
Shone pale, thro’ the light
Of the brighter, cold moon,
’Mid planets her slaves,
Herself in the Heavens,
Her beam on the waves.
I gazed awhile
On her cold smile;
Too cold--too cold for me--
There pass’d, as a shroud,
A fleecy cloud,
And I turned away to thee,
Proud Evening Star,
In thy glory afar,
And dearer thy beam shall be;
For joy to my heart
Is the proud part
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,
And more I admire
Thy distant fire,
Than that colder, lowly light.
Do you enjoy poetry? If so, who is your favorite poet? Do you have a favorite poem?
Until next time...
~Rebecca
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Until next time...
~Rebecca
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