"An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom."

"An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom."
In the waiting and holding out in this bleak world, we find that we have hope and that we are not alone.
When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hideLodged with me useless, though my soul more bentTo serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; "Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"I fondly ask. But Patience, to …
Continue reading Poetry: Milton – When I consider how my light is spent
’Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land,Taught my benighted soul to understandThat there’s a God, that there’s a Saviour too:Once I redemption neither sought nor knew.Some view our sable race with scornful eye,‘Their colour is a diabolic die.’Remember, Christians, Negros, black as Cain,May be refin’d, and join th’ angelic train.Phillis Wheatley, On Being Brought from Africa to America I first heard …
Continue reading Poetry: Wheatley – On Being Brought from Africa to America
"This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong, To love that well which thou must leave ere long." Let us love well and rejoice in these days that we have while we walk them, taking in stride all that the seasons bring with them. #Sonnet73