A scent of ripeness from over a wall.
And come to leave the routine road
and look for what had made me stall,
there sure enough was an apple tree
that had eased itself of its summer load,
and of all but its trivial foliage free,
now breathed as light as a lady's fan.
For there there had been an apple fall
as complete as the apple had given man.
The ground was one circle of solid red.

May something go always unharvested!
May much stay out of our stated plan,
apples or something forgotten and left,
so smelling their sweetness would be no theft.


R.Frost

u5


The voice of my beloved! behold, he cometh,
leaping upon the mountains,
skipping upon the hills.
My beloved is like a roe or a young deer:
Beh0ld, he standeth behind our wall,
he looketh in at the windows,
he showeth himself through the lattice.
My beloved spoke, and said unto me,
"Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
the flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds has come,
and the voice of the turtledove is heard in the land;
the fig tree ripeneth her green figs,
and the vines are in blossom;
they give forth their fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock,
in the covert of the steep place,
let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice;
for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely."



The Song of Songs

b3




By nature, my old friend on East Mountain
treasures the beauty of hills and valleys.
Spring now green, you lie
in empty woods still sound asleep under a midday sun,
your robe growing lucid in pine winds,
rocky streams rinsing ear and heart clean.

No noise, no confusion—
all I want is this life pillowed high in emerald mist.

Li Po

b5


Milton, on his blindness:

When I consider how my light is spent, ere half my days,

in this dark world and wide,

and that one talent which is death to hide, lodged with me useless,

though my soul more bent to serve therewith my Maker,

and present my true account, lest He returning chide:

“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?” I fondly ask;

but patience to prevent that murmur, soon replies:

“God doth not need either man’s works or His own gifts;

who best bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best;

His state is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed

and post over land and ocean without rest:

they also serve who only stand and wait.”



zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

ja9



Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.
Serve the Lord with gladness:
Come before his presence with singing.
Know ye that the Lord he is God:
It is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;
We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
Enter into his gates with thanksgiving,
And into his courts with praise:
Be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting;
And his truth endureth to all generations.

j67




Napped half the day—
no one
punished me.



Issa

c17



But because truly being here is so much;
because everything here apparently needs us,
this fleeting world,
which in some strange way keeps calling to us.
Us, the most fleeting of all.
Once for each thing.
Just once; no more.
And we too, just once, completely, even if only once:
to have been at one with the earth,
seems beyond undoing.

RMRilke