dual personalities

We had a lovely, sunny and warm week. Trees are turning green and the lilacs are opening. Here’s the view out my kitchen window. I think there are four or five blooms on my little lilac.

All over the lawn (if you can call it that) the forget-me-nots run riot. I love these little flowers. Yesterday, I picked a small bunch and put them in this tiny green vase (it’s about 2″ tall).

Despite the fact that I feel quite happy and hopeful — Spring has that effect — it’s impossible to write about forget-me-nots without remembering the beloved departed. In that vein I offer this poem by Ann Plato, an educator who lived in Hartford, Connecticut in the mid 19th century and taught at the Black Zion Methodist Church:

When in the morning’s misty hour,
When the sun beams gently o’er each flower;
When thou dost cease to smile benign,
And think each heart responds with thine,
When seeking rest among divine,
                                    Forget me not.

When the last rays of twilight fall,
And thou art pacing yonder hall;
When mists are gathering on the hill,
Nor sound is heard save mountain rill,
When all around bids peace be still,
                                    Forget me not.

When the first star with brilliance bright,
Gleams lonely o’er the arch of night;
When the bright moon dispels the gloom,
And various are the stars that bloom,
And brighten as the sun at noon,
                                    Forget me not.

When solemn sighs the hollow wind,
And deepen’d thought enraps the mind;
If e’er thou doest in mournful tone,
E’er sigh because thou feel alone,
Or wrapt in melancholy prone,
                                    Forget me not. 

When bird does wait thy absence long,
Nor tend unto its morning song;
While thou art searching stoic page,
Or listening to an ancient sage,
Whose spirit curbs a mournful rage,
                                    Forget me not.

Then when in silence thou doest walk,
Nor being round with whom to talk;
When thou art on the mighty deep,
And do in quiet action sleep;
If we no more on earth do meet,
                                    Forget me not.

When brightness round thee long shall bloom,
And knelt remembering those in gloom;
And when in deep oblivion’s shade,
This breathless, mouldering form is laid,
And thy terrestrial body staid,
                                     Forget me not.

“Should sorrow cloud thy coming years,
And bathe thy happiness in tears,
Remember, though we’re doom’d to part,
There lives one fond and faithful heart,
                        That will forget thee not.”

All of this goes well with a Taylor Swift song that my son Chris included on a playlist he shared with me via Spotify for Mother’s Day.

The song is a lovely tribute to Swift’s grandmother. It’s good to remember, as long as one follows Jane Austin’s advice to “Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure” (Pride and Prejudice).

It’s going to be another quiet weekend of reading, chatting, and remembering — and that’s just fine with me. Newsflash: This just in, check it out! Truly, I am blessed.