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| Solitude HOW still it is here in the woods. The trees Stand motionless, as if they do not dare To stir, lest it should break the spell. The air Hangs quiet as spaces in a marble frieze. Even this little brook, that runs at ease, Whispering and gurgling in its knotted bed, Seems but to deepen with its curling thread Of sound the shadowy sun-pierced silences. Sometimes a hawk screams or a woodpecker Startles the stillness from its fixèd mood With his loud careless tap. Sometimes I hear The dreamy white-throat from some far-off tree Pipe slowly on the listening solitude His five pure notes succeeding pensively. Archibald Lampman |
| New Every Morning Every day is a fresh beginning, Listen my soul to the glad refrain. And, spite of old sorrows And older sinning, Troubles forecasted And possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again. Susan Coolidge |
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| Pat has created 2 new sites and invites you to visit Inspired Poetry and The Home of Silken Petals. |
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| Sometimes, when a light goes out in our life, we are left in darkness and do not know which way to go. We must put our hand into the hand of God and ask Him to lead us. If we let our life become a prayer until we are strong enough to stand under the weight of our own thoughts again, somehow, even the most difficult hours are bearable. Helen Steiner Rice |
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| The newest poems that are being showcased at Gentle Mysts: |
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| Do you have your own web site? I would be so happy to have you place a link to your site so that other visitors to Gentle Mysts may visit you. Please click on either icon or these words: Links Page |
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| If you find that you need comfort or prayers to assist you, please visit my friend's site, Lotusbud's Circle of Prayer. |
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| Amber Alert in The United States: |
| Amber Alert in Canada: |
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| The midi that you are listening to on the Main Index page and the Welcome Page, is titled "Solitude" and it is an original composition by and performed by Margi Harrell and is copyrighted. When you visit Margi's site you will find many songs are available on cd. |
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| To a Very Young Lady Sweetest bud of beauty, may No untimely frost decay Th' early glories which we trace Blooming in thy matchless face: But kindly opening, like the rose, Fresh beauties every day disclose, Such as by Nature are not shown In all the blossoms she has blown: And then, what conquest shall you make, Who hearts already daily take! Scorch'd in the morning with thy beams, How shall we bear those sad extremes Which must attend thy threat'ning eyes When thou shalt to thy noon arise? Sir George Etherege |
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