Child Development

whose heart has been my grace

whose heart has been my grace

Because of him I cannot say this world
Is weary, or a failure, or a fraud,
Or that a lovely vessel must be flawed,
Or that the hopeful mind is not as brave
As any splendid action that we did laud.
Because of him I cannot say the fall
Is sad, or that the winter is too hard,
Or that the spring by transiency is marred,
Or that the summer in its natural fields
Already by the coming frost is scarred.
Because of him whose mind is more my sire
Than body, and whose heart has been my grace,
I cannot say that man, whom years efface,
Is not the strong effacer in the end
Of all that’s selfish, trivial, and base.

—Virginia Moore, "My Father"

stars are mansions!

stars are mansions!

The stars are mansions built by Nature’s hand,
And, haply, there the spirits of the blest
Dwell, clothed in radiance, their immortal vest;
Huge Ocean shows, within his yellow strand,
A habitation marvellously planned,
For life to occupy in love and rest;
All that we see – is dome, or vault, or nest,
Or fortress, reared at Nature’s sage command.
Glad thought for every season! but the Spring
Gave it while cares were weighing on my heart,
’Mid song of birds, and insects murmuring;
And while the youthful year’s prolific art –
Of bud, leaf, blade, and flower – was fashioning
Abodes where self-disturbance hath no part.

—William Wordsworth