Greetings, Poetry Lovers!
Confesstion: On Thursday morning, I blew off work to finish a book while rocking on the front porch. We had a slow, steady rain all day and temps just in the upper 60s and low 70s, so can you blame me? Everything is still lush and green. We'll be back to pushing 90 this weekend.
I finally finished THE HOUSE IN THE CERULEAN SEA by TJ Klune (website here.) The book was published in 2020 by TOR, and my family members have been raving about it as it got passed from person to person. If you haven't read it, no spoilers - but one does learn early on that snuggled up into the main storyline is a quiet love story between main character Linus and oh-so-compelling Arthur. So count me in its large fan club! (I know the author has published two more books since then - and others before. I didn't say I was particularly timely.)
With love in mind, I went searching for an old August-y poem for this week, noting in some of my dusty tomes in my studio that for our British friends, "traditional" harvest thoughts begin in August, and did for us Americans until we came up with Thanksgiving. At any rate, I stumbled upon a poem by American author James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916 - learn about this popular poet and children's writer here) that jived with my love poem/harvesty/blue moon-super-moon-month sensibilities at the moment. It's from RILEY LOVE-LYRICS, with "life pictures" by William B. Dyer, published by Grosset & Dunlap. The copyright goes back to 1883, but this edition is 1905. The dreamy photograph above accompanies the poem.
WHEN MY DREAMS COME TRUE
I
When my dreams come true - when my dreams
come true -
Shall I lean from out my casement, in the starlight and
the dew,
To listen - smile and listen to the tinkle of the strings
Of the sweetest guitar my lover's fingers fondle, as he sings?
And as the nude moon slowly, slowly shoulders into view,
Shall I vanish from his vision - when my dreams come
true?
When my dreams come true - shall the simple gown I
wear
Be changed to softest satin, and my maiden-braided hair
Be raveled into flossy mists of rarest, fairest gold,
To be minted into kisses, more than any heart can hold? -
Or "the summer of my tresses" shall my lover liken to
"The fervor of his passion" - when my dreams come true?
II
When my dreams come true - I shall lie among the
sheaves
Of happy harvest meadows; and the grasses and the
leaves
Shall lift and lean between me and the splendor of the
sun,
Till the moon swoons into twilight, and the gleaners'
work is done -
Save that yet an arm shall bind me, even as the reapers do
The meanest sheaf of harvest - when my dreams come
true.
When my dreams come true ! when my dreams come true!
True love in all simplicity is fresh and pure as dew; -
The blossom in the blackest mold is kindlier to the eye
Than any lily born of pride that looms against the sky;
And so it is I know my heart will gladly welcome you,
My lowliest of lovers, when my dreams come true.
And, finally, a feel-good love story gem in case you missed it. I found in the Weather Channel app videos, but you can Google and find other references, like this one on Good Morning America's Instagram. Seems a farmer in Kansas, Lee Wilson, wanted to surprise his wife with something special on their 50th wedding anniversary this month. With help from his son, he planted 80 acres of sunflowers - 1.2 million of them! - timing them to bloom right about now. Sigh and swoon. :0)
For lots of swoon-worthy poetry this first Poetry Friday of August, and blessings from the natural world, visit the multi-talented Mary Lee at A(nother) Year of Reading.