31 July 2012

Last Evening

I decided to pull out a volume of poetry.  I'd not read some in way too long.  I noted in front that it was a volume I'd given my mom back in 1980, and that I'd quoted part of this line from Whittier's Snow-Bound:

Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own.

The solid hope of the faith rings throughout the piece.  I think of it as the poetic version of Currier and Ives.  It gives a painting of an America that had, even by Whittier's day, become only memory.  But his sketches of those folks known and loved and remembered from long ago - the older I get, the more of a chord it strikes.

So, I really hope to make that a habit:  pull out the poetry book and read some before bed every evening.

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