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| Photo by Ruben Ortega on Unsplash |
The holiest of all holidays is this:
When the dawn of the Resurrection starts,
And the lost ones return to our hearts
When the full river of feeling is bliss
Happy day! To greet my babe with a kiss;
Exquisite joy that never will depart!
Finally, your smiles, your giggles impart
A remedy; and secret grief dismiss.
White as the gleam of an advancing sail,
White as the cloud above the rafter,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
This forthcoming memory will hail,
The beginning of happily ever after
Lovely and real, no longer a dream.
A reply to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Holidays"
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;—
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are;— a Fairy Tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
Written for dVerse.
