14 Dec 06
I know not how, dear Lady love, To offer you my praise, I cannot fashion as I wish The words that I world raise. You stand afar, celestial Queen, The stars are in your crown, They spangle at each gesture's path And dust upon your gown. Perhaps I might recall the night You knelt beside the crib, The night when doors and casements shut And left a mountain's rib, Alone, exposed, to hoard you close Beside the new-born Child And seek in Joseph's kindly eyes For something worldly-mild. To counteract such mundane chill I hereby set my heart, Dim mirror of an Infant's warmth, Its flaming but a part, A small, sad part of Endless Love That came on Christmas day To show a mother wonder-bright To guide us on our way.
13 Dec 06
English literature was good in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries but I haven't read any of the new material. I also love poetry written in the same time span but today's poetry turns me off. My preference is historical and biographical novels.