Today I got inspired to use my blog once again....for no apparent reason other than the snow that's laying outside my window. It's been almost three years since I've posted something and although this is for my own personal comfort alone, if you happen to be reading this I hope you find it enjoyable.
As I look outside my window I'm reminded about how much I love our Creator. Depressing as I may think snow may be, there is a light in every situation. Maybe I'm overly joyful this morning because for exactly a year and a half now I've been trudging along though life, because of certain circumstances that shall remain nameless for the time being, and now I'm ready to be joyful once more. The winter always depresses me; no sun, no warmth, no light!
But as I looked outside my window today I saw something shinning and new and beautiful. The world has turned into a snow globe and everyone is singing praises getting ready for Christmas. The Lord says to praise Him in all seasons, and although this is talking about seasons of life one must also take it literally. It is truly beautiful outside, and even more beautiful because I do not have to walk to class today and traipse about on the frozen ground. The sun is glittering off the ice sickles and it is the morning of a brand new day. This is truly the work of the greatest artist who ever lived, and is living still inside each of His children. How can we keep from dancing and singing His praise even if it is the dead of winter?
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Saturday, February 16, 2008
The Lady Of Shalott
One of my all-time favorite poems by Lord Alfred Tennyson.......The Lady Of Shalott....enjoy!
The Lady of Shalott
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the field the road run by To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil'd,Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'dSkimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early, In among the bearded barley Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly; Down to tower'd Camelot; And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy The Lady of Shalott."
There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot; There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village churls, And the red cloaks of market girls Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two. She hath no loyal Knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often through the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot; Or when the Moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed. "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armor rung Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down to Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, burning bright, Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.
In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining. Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And around about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance -- With a glassy countenance Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right -- The leaves upon her falling light -- Thro' the noises of the night, She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darkened wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame, And around the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot; But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."
The Lady of Shalott
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the field the road run by To many-tower'd Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veil'd,Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'dSkimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early, In among the bearded barley Hear a song that echoes cheerly From the river winding clearly; Down to tower'd Camelot; And by the moon the reaper weary, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy The Lady of Shalott."
There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot; There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village churls, And the red cloaks of market girls Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two. She hath no loyal Knight and true, The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often through the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights And music, went to Camelot; Or when the Moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed. "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott.
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armor rung Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burn'd like one burning flame together, As he rode down to Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, burning bright, Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flow'd His coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.
In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining. Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And around about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance -- With a glassy countenance Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day She loosed the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right -- The leaves upon her falling light -- Thro' the noises of the night, She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darkened wholly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame, And around the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot; But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott."
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Love Among the Ruins
Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles,Miles and milesOn the solitary pastures where our sheepHalf-asleepTinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stopAs they crop---Was the site once of a city great and gay,(So they say)Of our country's very capital, its princeAges sinceHeld his court in, gathered councils, wielding farPeace or war.
Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns!Earth's returnsFor whole centuries of folly, noise and sin!Shut them in,With their triumphs and their glories and the rest!Love is best.
- Robert Browning
Oh heart! oh blood that freezes, blood that burns!Earth's returnsFor whole centuries of folly, noise and sin!Shut them in,With their triumphs and their glories and the rest!Love is best.
- Robert Browning
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
A Poem for a Lover
As our bodies wither away my love our souls will always live on. I'll hold your hand this whole dark night till the rising dawn. Lean toward me my love, and kiss me so sweetly till I surrender to your charms completely. Be true my love, till the seas run dry, and I will be till the seas flood the sky. Now that our love is strong it will never lack. We will be together for oh so long even when our Lord calls us back.
- My Sister Ashley :)
- My Sister Ashley :)
The Unquiet Grave
The Wind doth blow today, my love, And a few small drops of rain; I never had but one true-love,In cold grave she was lain. I'll do as much for my true-love, As any young man may; I'll sit and mourn all at her grave For a twelvemonth and a day. The twelvemonth and a day being up, The dead began to speak: 'Oh who sits weeping on my grave, And will not let me sleep? 'Tis I, my love, sits on your grave, And will not let you sleep; For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, And that is all I seek. You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips; But my breath smells earthly strong; If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, Your time will not be long. "Tis down in younder garden green, Love, where we used to walk, The finest flower that ere was seen Is withered to a stalk.The stalk is withered dry, my love, So will our hearts decay; So make yourself content, my love, Till God calls you away.
-Anonymous
-Anonymous
Friday, November 16, 2007
This Morning
The sun hath risen, barren of warmth. Light is its maker. the rays of loveliness reflect the colors of the leaves, a rainbow of promises coming forth brought by the new day. How lovely is your creation oh God! Why am I deserving? Light! Sun! I need thee! For the darkness of the night hath filled the void in my soul, soaking up the remainder of hope. A black evil, descending upon the mortals that dwell on earth. May light of the immortal, of the other realm, battle the darkness that has covered my thoughts! Light of the sun! Come! Morning has arrived, Darkness has fled. My Spirit, my breath, can indeed be seen, tis so cold. The light hath come! The warmth I desire must, however, come from You, my Eternal Creator. Fill up the void in my soul for darkness may last for a night, but joy comes with the promise of the rising of a new dawn......
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Fear and Faith
Oh Father! What must I do as to grow and nourish my faith? I must posses a great multitude of fear to not even speak against my own peers! Grant me favor and give me courage! As your people did in Rome, against hungry beasts, and swords of the world! It would be an honor to die for Your name, so that others may see Your glory, give me a peace to put my fearful soul at rest. Rest in You. As the world tries to pursue me, may I only pursue You! Give me the strength of the Martyrs who were beaten, burned, and suffered a living death all for You. Give me the faith, to put my fear aside, and look only on the hope of heaven. "Be faithful even to the point of death, and I will give you the crown of life" Revelation 2:10
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