Who Shall Deliver Me?

God strengthen me to bear myself;
That heaviest weight of all to bear,
Inalienable weight of care.

All others are outside myself;
I lock my door and bar them out
The turmoil, tedium, gad-about.

I lock my door upon myself,
And bar them out; but who shall wall
Self from myself, most loathed of all?

If I could once lay down myself,
And start self-purged upon the race
That all must run ! Death runs apace.

If I could set aside myself,
And start with lightened heart upon
The road by all men overgone!

God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves for ease and rest and joys

Myself, arch-traitor to myself ;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,
My clog whatever road I go.

Yet One there is can curb myself,
Can roll the strangling load from me
Break off the yoke and set me free

~Christina Rossetti

A Book of Comfort, by Elizabeth Goudge

My friend Linda Dean introduced me to the novels and writings of Elizabeth Goudge years ago. Yesterday I pulled this anthology of poetry and prose from my shelf to peruse again.  I love this quote this from her preface, describing the comfort which books give us…

"…What are the sources of comfort to which we turn in what Saint Augustine…calls "our mortal weariness"?  The answer is that our existence is as light with comfort as it is weighted with weariness.  The sources of our comfort are legion, and cannot be counted, but if we attempted the impossible and tried to make a list most of us would place books very high indeed, perhaps second only to faith, for reading is not only a pleasure in itself, with its concomitants of stillness, quietness and forgetfulness of self, but in what we read many of our other comforts are present with us like reflections seen in a mirror.  If the light of our faith flickers we can make it steady again by reading of the faith of the saints, and hearing poetry sing to us the songs of the lovers of God.  In the absence of children we can read about them, and in the cold and darkness of midwinter, look in the mirror of our book and see flowers and butterflies, and spring passing into the glow and warmth of summer…"

I also like her "categories" of comforting things (from the table of contents):

We Are Comforted When We Consider the Glory and Wisdom of Creation… The Comfort We Have in Delighting in Each Other… The Comfort of Faith… The Comfort We Have in Living in the World of Imagination

Elizabeth Goudge (1900-1984) was the daughter of a clergyman of the Church of England. You can read more about her here, and see the extensive bibliography of her works.  A couple of my favorites are The Dean's Watch;  a trilogy about the fictional Eliot family: The Bird in the Tree, The Herb of Grace (also published under the title The Pilgrim's Inn), and The Heart of the Family; and her children's fairy tale, Linnets and Valerians, which I read for the first time last week, and which I thoroughly enjoyed!

Scots Wha Hae

To go along with our reading of The Scottish Chiefs, we're memorizing Robert Burn's "Battle of Bannockburn". Robert Bruce's speech in that poem is the Scottish National Anthem. You can listen to it here, bagpipes and all. You should see E & D recite and act this out on the tramp!

Why Children Should Memorize Poetry...

...from a beautiful out of print volume on my shelf called "The Children's Library: Poems", Doubleday & Sons, 1904:

"There are people who believe that in the matter of poetry there is no "ought", but this is a false belief. There is a duty, even there; for every American citizen ought to know the great national songs that keep alive the spirit of patriotism. Children should build for their future -- and get, while they are children, what only the fresh imagination of the child can assimilate.

They should store up an untold wealth of heroic sentiment; they should acquire the habit of carrying a literary quality in their conversation; they should carry a heart full of the fresh and delightful associations and memories connected with poetry hours to brighten mature years. They should develop their memories while they have memories to develop." ~Mary E. Burt, editor

November

November is a spinner
Spinning in the mist
Weaving such a lovely web
Of gold and amethyst.
In among the shadows
She spins till close of day
Then quietly she folds her hands
And puts her work away.

~Margaret Rose