So I have again returned to an old favourite of mine. I really can not get enough of Christina Rossetti’s poetry. To be honest I am getting really fed up of all this rain we have been having recently, so I have gone for a poem about the wind, as to me this would be a nice change.
Who Has Seen the Wind?
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing thro’.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
Well August is drawing to a close and this inevitably means I will be back teaching on the 2nd September. I must admit over August I have basically lived in shorts, even on cold days because I just refuse to wear trousers in the summer. In September though it will be back to boring work clothes and living life by my diary and I must admit I am rather sad to leave the freedom behind.
So whilst reading through some poetry I discovered this wonderful poem by one of my favourite poets and I thought it summed up all of my feelings and so I would share it with you all today.
Fly Away, Fly Away Over the Sea by Christina Rossetti
Fly away, fly away over the sea,
Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done;
Come again, come again, come back to me,
Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.
I do hope everyone has a very bookish weekend planned ahead.
This week I have chosen another poem by one of my favourites, Christina Rossetti. This poem is about spans of time and to be honest this week I have been thinking a lot about time, working out how long I have before I’m back teaching and also realising that in September I will have very little spare time. As per usual as I have taken on too much and need to sit down and think about how I am going to sort through everything and make it more manageable for myself.
How Many Seconds in a Minute?
How many seconds in a minute?
Sixty, and no more in it.
How many minutes in an hour?
Sixty for sun and shower.
How many hours in a day?
Twenty-four for work and play.
How many days in a week?
Seven both to hear and speak.
How many weeks in a month?
Four, as the swift moon runn’th.
How many months in a year?
Twelve the almanack makes clear.
How many years in an age?
One hundred says the sage.
How many ages in time?
No one knows the rhyme.
Well it is Good Friday, so I wanted a suitable poem to reflect this. I always think Christina Rossetti has excellent poems for the church festivals and yet again I have found a poem by her which is in my opinion perfect.
I hope you all have an excellent Easter weekend, but please remember it is not just about fluffy bunnies, cute chicks and chocolate eggs.
Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?
Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;
Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon –
I, only I.
Yet give not o’er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.
Lady Book Dragon.