One of the only one or two prayers that Frost ever wrote. He summered here in the Willoughby Lake area.
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.
For this is love and nothing else is love,
To which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends he will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.
Aaah, it's easy to spring is coming to the northern hemisphere...all the spring posts and poetry.
ReplyDeleteThis truly wonderful poetry. Frost was a remarkably kind and gentle soul, and at peace with the world he lived in, if not with the people he encountered. I think to him the world would be best left in its Eden state, with just one man, and just one woman; love would live there always.
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