Our Summer Poem: The Summer Rain by Henry David Thoreau

The Summer Rain by Henry David Thoreau

Think cool thoughts on this steamy summer day!

Think cool thoughts on this steamy summer day.

My books I’d fain cast off, I cannot read,

’Twixt every page my thoughts go stray at large

Down in the meadow, where is richer feed,

And will not mind to hit their proper target.

Plutarch was good, and so was Homer too,

Our Shakespeare’s life were rich to live again,

What Plutarch read, that was not good nor true,

Nor Shakespeare’s books, unless his books were men.

Here while I lie beneath this walnut bough,

What care I for the Greeks or for Troy town,

If juster battles are enacted now

Between the ants upon this hummock’s crown?

Bid Homer wait till I the issue learn,

If red or black the gods will favor most,

Or yonder Ajax will the phalanx turn,

Struggling to heave some rock against the host.

Tell Shakespeare to attend some leisure hour,

For now I’ve business with this drop of dew,

And see you not, the clouds prepare a shower—

I’ll meet him shortly when the sky is blue.

This bed of herd’s grass and wild oats was spread

Last year with nicer skill than monarchs use.

A clover tuft is pillow for my head,

And violets quite overtop my shoes.

And now the cordial clouds have shut all in,

And gently swells the wind to say all’s well;

The scattered drops are falling fast and thin,

Some in the pool, some in the flower-bell.

I am well drenched upon my bed of oats;

But see that globe come rolling down its stem,

Now like a lonely planet there it floats,

And now it sinks into my garment’s hem.

Drip drip the trees for all the country round,

And richness rare distills from every bough;

The wind alone it is makes every sound,

Shaking down crystals on the leaves below.

For shame the sun will never show himself,

Who could not with his beams e’er melt me so;

My dripping locks—they would become an elf,

Who in a beaded coat does gayly go.

(1842)

“The Schoolboy”- A Summer Poem by William Blake

It’s been awhile since I posted a poem, but when I heard someone talking about doing school through summer, I just had to post this one! Enjoy!

The proper joys of summer.

The proper joys of summer.

I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!

But to go to school in a summer morn, —
O it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.

Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.

How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring!

O father and mother if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay, —

How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?

From Songs of Experience, 1794

Requiem for Clue- A Very Old Dog: 1996-2009

Today we said good-bye to dear old friend. It’s never easy, and I’ll miss his ancient tottering steps following me through the house from dawn to dark. Today is the first time I’ve sat in my office chair, without needing to stay still in order to not roll over his old paws. Read more

“Gratefulnesse”- A Poem of Thanksgiving & A Recipe

This is my favorite Thanksgiving poem, and if you have been with me for many years, you know that you’ll receive it each year as my Thanksgiving “article.” It is a poem of grace and beauty, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

GRATEFULNESSE

by George Herbert (1593- 1633)

Thou that hast given so much to me,
Give one thing more, a grateful heart.
See how thy beggar works on thee
By art.

He makes thy gifts occasion more,
And says, If he in this be crossed,
All thou hast given him heretofore
Is lost.

But thou didst reckon, when at first
Thy word our hearts and hands did crave,
What it would come to at the worst
To save.

Perpetual knockings at thy door,
Tears sullying thy transparent rooms,
Gift upon gift, much would have more,
And comes.

This not withstanding, thou wenst on,
And didst allow us all our noise:
Nay thou hast made a sigh and groan
Thy joys.

Not that thou hast not still above
Much better tunes, than groans can make;
But that these country-airs thy love
Did take.

Wherefore I cry, and cry again;
And in no quiet canst thou be,
Till I a thankful heart obtain
Of thee:

Not thankful, when it pleaseth me;
As if thy blessings had spare days:
But such a heart, whose pulse may be
Thy praise.

Our Favorite Thanksgiving Recipe

Fresh Cranberry-Orange Relish

2 bags fresh cranberries (frozen is okay)

3 juicy Valencia oranges, unpeeled, cut in eighths

2-3 handfuls of shelled walnuts

Sugar to taste

Chop or grind the cranberries and orange pieces in a food processor or old-fashioned crank-type food grinder. Chop the walnuts with a knife (definitely not the food processor– trust me on this) and add to the fruit. Add about a cup of sugar to start, stir, and keep adding sugar until it’s perfect. It’s good when made the day before, as the flavors blend nicely. If you do this, you’ll need to keep it out of sight, or you may have a problem with poachers. Whatever you call it, it’s been a family favorite ever since I can remember pouring berries through the grinder when I was a little girl. Yum!

Here’s a link to my Black Friday Clearance Sale!

Veterans’ Day 2008- The Soldier by Robert Frost

The Soldier

by Robert Frost

He is that fallen lance that lies as hurled,
That lies unlifted now, come dew, come rust,
But still lies pointed as it ploughed the dust.
If we who sight along it round the world,
See nothing worthy to have been its mark,
It is because like men we look too near,
Forgetting that as fitted to the sphere,
Our missiles always make too short an arc.
They fall, they rip the grass, they intersect
The curve of earth, and striking, break their own;
They make us cringe for metal-point on stone.
But this we know, the obstacle that checked
And tripped the body, shot the spirit on
Further than target ever showed or shone.

Freedom is never free.

I‘m thankful for all those who have shared in the mission of keeping our country safe, and those who have served on the home front. This poem is shared in memory of my father, who served, and was a POW, in WWII, as well as others who never came back.

Announcements

Have you visited the Never-Ending Book Quiz? Stop by GoodReads to test your knowledge of books and literary analysis. This is not only fun, but just a wee bit educational.

An Autumn Poem for Copywork

I believe that Charlotte Mason’s method for teaching language arts provides an excellent foundation for future language arts learning. Copywork is the step that begins the process of learning to write. First, read the entire poem aloud, using appropriate inflection. Practice ahead of time, if necessary!

Students of any age can use copywork to practice the mechanics of writing and to internalize the sound and rhythm of the written word. For young students, copy up to four lines of the poem on wide-ruled paper, skipping a line between each line you use. Be sure to use your best handwriting style, whether printing or cursive, and space the letters evenly. This will be your student’s model, so make it as beautiful as you can.* Read more

Summertime- Blake, Rilke, Sandburg, Shakespeare

Summer has begun– a slower, sweeter time of year for many families. I enjoy each month of the year as it arrives, but the lushness of summer greens is a special delight. Each time I pick roses, I gather a variety of lovely foliage to complement them- hostas, crimson barberry, several types of ferns, a bit of lemon balm for extra fragrance, and whatever else strikes my fancy. The cool green, gray, and burgundy shades frame the lush roses beautifully. Roses, like most stars, are loveliest with a supporting cast!

It’s time for summer poems, and I’ve tried to choose three you may not know, plus a Shakespearean sonnet that always rewards another reading. These are lovely for copywork, or simply for reading and savoring. Enjoy!

To Summer by William Blake
O thou who passest thro’ our valleys in
Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
Oft pitched’st here thy golden tent, and oft
Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair. Read more

TV Turnoff Week: Fast, Cheap, & Easy Life Enhancement!

Why not live a little this week? The Center for Screen Time Awareness is once again sponsoring the ever-timely TV Turnoff Week. Pointing out that “television cuts into family time, harms our children’s ability to read and succeed in school, and contributes to unhealthy lifestyles and obesity” (though otherwise, it’s not so bad?!), the Center suggests that during the week of April 21-27, families keep the television OFF.

They suggest that “Turning off the television gives us a chance to think, read, create, and do. To connect with our families and engage in our communities. To turn off TV and turn on life.” We always learn more when we choose to do and be, rather than sit and stare.

If your family usually watches a ball game, try playing a game outside. If you enjoy cooking shows, try cooking instead! If your children like to watch cartoon, introduce them to the comics, and try drawing a few. Do and be, don’t sit and stare! The key is to live, rather than watching someone else pretend to live. Read more

Celebrate April with Hopkins, Frost, Eliot, and Rossetti

I’ve been stricken with spring fever and could not resist sharing the beauty of a few of my favorite spring poems. I’ll offer them without comment, as I believe they are best savored quietly. If you wish to learn more about the poet or the poem, I suggest browsing through Bartleby.com, as well as your own encyclopedia.

Spring
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Nothing is so beautiful as spring—
When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush;
Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing lambs too have fair their fling. Read more

The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy (and SAT Essay Prep)

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires. Read more

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