Among the Evergreens

Stately they rise majestically,
A top the hill along the road.
Towering on high, we see them from afar;
A landmark amidst the rolling fields.
Through the opened gate we drive
Along the attending juniper heralds;
Back into the palace court where
Stately Pine Lords hold council and watch
Over the stones neatly arrayed in rows,
Amongst both shaded grass and sunlit lawn;
As Guardians of the sacred hill,
Where laid beneath the sod,
Are the family and friends we knew.

A peaceful place this sacred court
Where from blue sky with scattered clouds
The sun shines warmly down.
So we wander through that sacred ground,
Noting a loved one there,
Or there a neighbor found,
Or ancient ancestor of a generation
Long before our life began.
Here they lay, reposed serene,
Among the evergreens.

J. William Newcomer, March 2012, Copyright © March 2012, all rights reserved.

Daffodils

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

(William Wordsworth. 1770–1850)

We had to learn this poem for a high school literature class. For the rest of my life the words of the first stanza have remained etched in my memory. As a postscript, I should mention my mother was the teacher of that literature class. No, I did not get any special favors...

as though a goddess

It was as though you were a goddess,
Though I know you mortal be,
And both time and age
Will take their toll on thee.

A moment of beauty and youth,
As if a glimpse of eternity;
What may have been had not
Our parents eaten from the tree.

Time takes its toll on us all
In this broken world you see;
But in a brief moment of youthful beauty
Was a hint of earth redeemed.

(Copyright © 2009 All rights reserved.

(In this poem I am using the word "goddess" in the way I believe C.S. Lewis would have used it.)

The Gloaming

How I love the gloaming,
The twilight of the day;
When the colors of the sky are faded,
Yet linger a while to stay.

The light in the west, it lingers,
Holding the darkness at bay.
And in it there is a promise,
Of a dawn of another day.

How I love the gloaming,
When the sun has finally set.
Yet it’s faint rays still glimmer
Far off out in the West.

It is a magic time of day,
Between the light and dark;
Just before the first star’s glimmer
The night begins to mark.

How I love the gloaming,
At the twilight of the day.
Mysterious and magical,
A precious time to pray.

(August 18, 1998. Copyright © 1998, All right reserved.)

Winter Earth

The earth lies silently
'Neath its blanket asleep.
The wind cuts raw and cold
Into the marrow deep.

Over open meadow;
Over woodland place;
Under its white blanket,
Quiet sleep upon its face.

Days begin to linger;
Sun's rays slanting steep,
Calling to the earth
Under its blanket fast asleep.

Promise of resurrection
In its bosom keeps,
As it lays beneath its blanket,
Dormant, dead, asleep.

(Copyright © February 2, AD 2001. All rights reserved.)

(I was looking through an old journal of sorts and found this poem I had written, but had never published. I thought it appropriate for this time of year.)