Memories of Love

Spring is in the air and with it comes romance and fresh beginnings. It's a good time to make new plans and to reflect on how, or what changes we will make in our life. Take care though, some memories are just meant to be savoured.


The First Day

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

I wish I could remember the first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me,
If bright or dim the season it might be
Summer or winter for aught I can say;
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom, yet, or many a May.
If only I could recollect it. such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand - Did one, but know!

False Though She Be

by William Congreve

False though she be to me and love,
I'll ne'er pursue revenge;
For still the charmer I approve,
Though I deplore her change.

In hours of bliss we oft have met:
They could not always last;
And though the present I regret,
I'm grateful for the past.

 

How is the River a Piece of Sky

What a lovely poem. I read this poem several times and still found something new to think about.

One thought I had was how we believe some things to be true that are not true. Yet it gives us great joy. It could be a very innocent thing like 'Santa Claus'. As you get older you learn that 'Santa Claus' is an imaginary person, but you still like the memory of 'Santa' because Santa is a good memory.

When people become parents they keep the allusion of 'Santa' alive so their children can enjoy it, too. It's pleasant to reflect on the innocence of yesterday especially when there is so much sadness in the news.

Today, take time to drop a penny in the river and watch the sky ripple.

The River Is a Piece of Sky

-John Ciardi (June 1916 - March 1986)

From the top of a bridge
The river below
Is a piece of sky -
    Until you throw
    A penny in
    Or a cockleshell
    Or a pebble or two
    Or a bicycle bell
    Or a cobblestone
    Or a fat man's cane-
And then you can see
It's a river again.
The difference you'll see
When you drop your penny:
The river has splashes,
The sky hasn't any.

John Ciardi was the son of Italian immigrants and taught at several university's in America. He left teaching in 1961 to pursue full time writing as a poet and spent some time with the, "Saturday Review" as a staff writer and critic. His love of words and language made him an admired poet in North America during the 1950's and onward. He wrote volumes of children's poetry along with a popular book entitled, "How does a poem mean." I've got to get that book.