Today I didn’t have time to think of writing much because we were out of the house most of the day celebrating a different birthday, that of Lucy’s best friend, E., who turns 4 tomorrow. Actually, it was sort of a joint birthday for both girls who were born less than three weeks apart. There were ten kids there, Zina’s five and our five and it was remarkably quiet and orderly considering. Everyone had a wonderful time and Lucy fell asleep in the car on the way home. I wished I’d been able to nap too.
So, how to commemorate this momentous anniversary, especially when I’m too tired to comb the archives and look back on what I’ve posted here? How about instead I look forward to the future, a pledge of more poetry, more books, more homeschooling learning notes, more literary analysis, more excess of pictures, more naval gazing. And I’ll finish off with a birthday poem, which, appropriately enough, is one my friend Zina shared as part of the poetry on Facebook game.
by Christina Rossetti
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.