Poem for Saturday

A Forest Hymn
By William Cullen Bryant

The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learned
To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave,
And spread the roof above them—ere he framed
The lofty vault, to gather and roll back
The sound of anthems; in the darkling wood,
Amidst the cool and silence, he knelt down,
And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks
And supplication. For his simple heart
Might not resist the sacred influences
Which, from the stilly twilight of the place,
And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound
Of the invisible breath that swayed at once
All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed
His spirit with the thought of boundless power
And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore
Only among the crowd, and under roofs
That our frail hands have raised? Let me, at least,
Here, in the shadow of this aged wood,
Offer one hymn—thrice happy if it find
Acceptance in His ear.

                    Father, thy hand
Hath reared these venerable columns, thou
Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down
Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose
All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun,
Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze,
And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow,
Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died
Among their branches, till, at last, they stood,
As now they stand, massy, and tall, and dark,
Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold
Communion with his Maker. These dim vaults,
These winding aisles, of human pomp or pride
Report not. No fantastic carvings show
The boast of our vain race to change the form
Of thy fair works. But thou art here—thou fill'st
The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds
That run along the summit of these trees
In music; thou art in the cooler breath
That from the inmost darkness of the place
Comes, scarcely felt; the barky trunks, the ground,
The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with thee.
Here is continual worship;—Nature, here,
In the tranquillity that thou dost love,
Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around,
From perch to perch, the solitary bird
Passes; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs,
Wells softly forth and wandering steeps the roots
Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale
Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left
Thyself without a witness, in these shades,
Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace,
Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak,—
By whose immovable stem I stand and seem
Almost annihilated—not a prince,
In all that proud old world beyond the deep,
E'er wore his crown as loftily as he
Wears the green coronal of leaves with which
Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root
Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare
Of the broad sun. That delicate forest flower,
With scented breath and look so like a smile,
Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mould,
An emanation of the indwelling Life,
A visible token of the upholding Love,
That are the soul of this great universe.

My heart is awed within me when I think
Of the great miracle that still goes on,
In silence, round me—the perpetual work
Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed
Forever. Written on thy works I read
The lesson of thy own eternity.
Lo! all grow old and die—but see again,
How on the faltering footsteps of decay
Youth presses,—ever-gay and beautiful youth
In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees
Wave not less proudly that their ancestors
Moulder beneath them. O, there is not lost
One of earth's charms: upon her bosom yet,
After the flight of untold centuries,
The freshness of her far beginning lies
And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate
Of his arch-enemy Death—yea, seats himself
Upon the tyrant's throne—the sepulchre,
And of the triumphs of his ghastly foe
Makes his own nourishment. For he came forth
From thine own bosom, and shall have no end.

There have been holy men who hid themselves
Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave
Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived
The generation born with them, nor seemed
Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks
Around them;—and there have been holy men
Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus.
But let me often to these solitudes
Retire, and in thy presence reassure
My feeble virtue. Here its enemies,
The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink
And tremble and are still. O God! when thou
Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire
The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fill,
With all the waters of the firmament, 105
The swift dark whirlwind that uproots the woods
And drowns the villages; when, at thy call,
Uprises the great deep and throws himself
Upon the continent, and overwhelms
Its cities—who forgets not, at the sight
Of these tremendous tokens of thy power,
His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by?
O, from these sterner aspects of thy face
Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath
Of the mad, unchainèd elements to teach
Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate,
In these calm shades, thy milder majesty,
And to the beautiful order of thy works
Learn to conform the order of our lives.

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Let's just do the day in bullets, as that is easier than listing the things I did NOT get done:

• "The Deadly Years" review.
  
• Leftover Cal Tort for lunch. Turkey chili. Never a bad thing. Thanks, and !
  
• Half the laundry and half the site columns which will be finished anon.
  
• Amici Miei, the new Italian restaurant, for mother's birthday dinner. Had excellent salmon and we all shared stellar tiramisu.
  
• Warrior Queen Boudica on The History Channel tonight. Quite enjoyable -- particularly the parts that reminded me of Xena *G*. I totally love these historical reenactments.
  
• This atrocity of a Maryland-BC game. Oh, my Terps, how embarrassing!

: Number One Single
1. What's your favorite song these days? Still "Nella Fantasia" I guess.
2. Do you wear glasses? Yes.
3. Have you ever counted sheep to fall asleep? No.
4. Reality TV: love it or hate it? I never, ever watch it, so I cannot say that I hate it, though I would take the fact that I never watch it as an indication of my utter disinterest.
5. Recommend a single on your friendslist that we should all get to know a little better: Lisa Kelly's version of "Now We Are Free."

: Time In A Bottle
1. 10 years ago what did you think you would be doing now? I thought I'd be somewhat more employed than I am, but I was already pregnant with child #2 so I did not have a radically different idea.
2. Where do you think you will be in 5 years from now? Probably still here!
3. Do you live life one day at a time or look to the future? Somewhat to the future. I have long-term travel plans that have to be put in motion.
4. Do you wish you could go back in time and undo something in your life? There are certain people I really wish I'd spent less time with, once I found out what they were really like.
5. If you could send a message back in time and give a younger version of yourself some advice, what would it be? Drop out of grad school sooner. Work harder to make freelance contacts.

The Maryland Zoo in Baltimore had a series of movie parody posters up at its birthday party last weekend advertising the zoo's redesign. Here are some of my favorites.












Horoscope: This is a terrific day for you, and you should easily feel the its power coming together for you in an upbeat, positive manner. Others are apt to fall into place by your side, and people will realize the wisdom in your way of doing things. Remain confident and positive at all times. Your adventuresome spirit is ready to set sail for the seven seas, so get ready to push off from the dock. Man, I hope at least part of this is true. *g*