Windows

The windows of the place wherein I dwell

I will make beautiful. No garish light
Shall enter crudely; but with colors bright,

And warm and throbbing I will weave a spell,
In rainbow harmony the theme to tell

Of sage and simple saint and noble knight,
Beggar and king who fought the gallant fight.

These shall transfigure even my poor cell.

But when the shadows of the night begin,

And sifted sunlight falls no more on me,

May I have learned to light my lamp within;

So that the passing world may look and see

Still the same radiance, though with paler hue,
Of the sweet lives that help men to live true.

— Abbie Farwell Brown
From the anthology "High Tide: Songs of Joy and Vision from the Present-Day Poets of America and Great Britain", 1916.

Photo by Dan Hardison
New Hanover Arboretum - Wilmington, NC

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The Heritage

No matter what my birth may be,

No matter where my lot is cast,

I am the heir in equity

Of all the precious Past.

The art, the science, and the lore

Of all the ages long since dust,

The wisdom of the world in store,

Are mine, all mine in trust.

The beauty of the living earth,

The power of the golden sun,

The Present, whatsoe'er my birth,

I share with everyone.

As much as any man am I

The owner of the working day;

Mine are the minutes as they fly

To save or throw away.

And mine the Future to bequeath

Unto the generations new;

I help to shape it with my breath,

Mine as I think or do.

Present and Past my heritage,

The Future laid in my control;

No matter what my name or age,

I am a Master-soul!

— Abbie Farwell Brown
From the anthology "High Tide: Songs of Joy and Vision from the Present-Day Poets of America and Great Britain", 1916.

Photo by Dan Hardison
Historic St. John's Church
Maury County, Tennessee

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I Did Not Know

I did not know –

And it was but a few short days ago –

How near to spring it was; the world lay still

In all the bitter cold of winter chill;

Yet even then the May-buds with the glow

Of burning lips pressed to the melting snow

Had kissed themselves a window to the sky, –

And spring was nigh.

I did not know –

Ah, was it such a little while ago! –

Within my heart how near it was to spring;

I did not guess the blessed blossoming,

Until this gladsome morn I woke, and lo!

Sweet with new fragrance does the whole world grow

From that so fair and snow-sprung flower dear, –

And spring is here!

— Abbie Farwell Brown
From New England Magazine, April 1898.

Photo by Dan Hardison
Brookgreen Gardens, Murrells Inlet, South Carolina

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