Though sweltering from Southern heat, Elysia and I sipped green tea from her Great Grandmother's china tea cups all on a sweltering humid summer afternoon.
The floppy bonnets, flowered dresses and pink hand gloves resembled tea time at Avonlee.
Sweet poetry, we read aloud, sharing thoughts on Anne of Green Gables. Agreeing, that distant delicate treasured moments of childhood should not to be forgotten or tampered with.
Awe... The freshly cut grass...oh, I shed a tear for that day when life seemed innocent and so gay (happy).
From the front porch while gently rocking and nodding pleasantly, and in trochaic tetrameter rhythm Little Hiawatha was read and Little Jacob listened.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow rocked in the chair next to us. He just smiled and listened about the poetic story of the child Indian.
Oh...but wait..There is another poem to be read!
"That was the hour of splendor in the grass of glory in the flower but I will grieve not rather find strength in what remains behind." My favorite!
Splendour in the Grass
What though the radiance
which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
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