Posts filed under ‘.nature’

Only when…

“Only when the last tree has died and the last river been poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realiZe we cannot eat money.”

-Cree Indian Proverb

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August 15, 2019 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

The secret language of trees

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August 7, 2019 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

The Redwoods

Poem by Joseph P. Strauss


Art by Alice Shaw

Here, sown by the Creator’s hand.
In serried ranks, the Redwoods stand:
No other clime is honored so,
No other lands their glory know.

The greatest of Earth’s living forms,
Tall conquerors that laugh at storms;
Their challenge still unanswered rings,
Through fifty centuries of kings.

The nations that with them were young,
Rich empires, with their forts far-flung,
Lie buried now-their splendor gone:
But these proud monarchs still live on.

So shall they live, when ends our days,
When our crude citadels decay;
For brief the years allotted man,
But infinite perennials’ span.

This is their temple, vaulted high,
And here, we pause with reverent eye,
With silent tongue and awestruck soul;
For here we sense life’s proper goal:

To be like these, straight, true and fine,
to make our world like theirs, a shrine;
Sink down, Oh, traveler, on your knees,
God stands before you in these trees.

Strauss Poems

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July 20, 2019 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

A July Day

by Eben Eugene Rexford

In idle mood, this happy day,

I let the moments drift away;

I lie among the tangled grass

And watch the crinkling billows pass

O’er seas of clover. Like a tide

That sets across the meadow wide,

The crimson-crested ripples run

From isles of shade to shores of sun;

And one white lily seems to be

A sail upon this summer sea,

Blown northward, bringing me, to-day,

A fragrant freight from far Cathay.

Low as the wind that waves the rose

In gardens where the poppy grows,

And sweet as bells heard far away,

A robin sings his song to-day;

Sings softly, by his hidden nest,

A little roundelay of rest;

And as the wind his dwelling swings

He dreams his dream of unfledged wings,

While, blending with his song, I hear

A brook’s low babble, somewhere near.

A glory wraps the hills, and seems

To weave an atmosphere of dreams

About the mountain’s kingly crest

As sinks the sun adown the west.

Earth seems to sit with folded hands

In peace he only understands

Who has no care, no vain regret,

No sorrow he would fain forget,

And like a child upon her breast

I lie, this happy day, and rest.

The ” green things growing ” whisper me

Of many an earth-old mystery;

Of blossoms hiding in the mold,

And what the acorn-cups enfold;

Of life unseen by eyes too dim

To look through Nature up to Him

Who writes the poem of the year

For human heart, and eye, and ear.

O summer day, surpassing fair,

With hints of heaven in earth and air,

Not long I keep you in my hold —

The book is closed — the tale is told.

The valley fills with amber mist;

The sky is gold and amethyst.

Soft, soft and low, and silver clear

The robin’s vesper hymn I hear,

And see the stars lit, one by one.

The happy summer day is done.

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July 1, 2019 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

To See The World In A Grain Of Sand…

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May 20, 2019 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Flower Poetry


Beautiful Words about Beautiful Flowers

May 6, 2019 at 8:25 pm Leave a comment

Enchanted Flowers

by Arthur Gregor

She is a flower in the wind.
Her bloom is gone.
The wind must take her petals
one by one.
She brought joys to beholders,
stinging pain to intruders.
Lean stalk of a stem,
the wind once proud of her
now wails in and about her.
The seer cannot see herself.
Dying is the wind’s full grief.

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May 5, 2019 at 8:25 pm 1 comment

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