Poems

While I was in Colorado, one of Mom's books that appeared was called Poems for Every Mood, compiled by Harriet Monroe and copyright 1933. It is inscribed, in my mother's handwriting, with her maiden name and the date "Dec. 25, 1933." Presumably, that's when she received it, two days shy of her 12th birthday. The writing is hers--was it really that clear at that age? If so, it didn't change at all for nearly 60 years. Shocking. In any case, I've never seen this book before, and I thought I had a pretty good idea of all the books that were left. I think Mom must have kept this in her nightstand, always.

On the inside front cover is this note: "[check] means famous author or poet or both" and throughout the book occasional poems are marked.

I brought the book home because Marie said I "have all the genealogy stuff." And besides, this is the sort of thing I would want anyway. After I unpacked, I basically forgot it, to the extent you can forget things that are in plain sight every day. Hint: it was left on the kitchen counter. Nice way to treat a book, eh?

Thursday or Friday I noticed it again. That's when I finally put it together with Amy's reminders that April is Poetry Month. It doesn't hurt that starting my poetry month on the seventh calendar day appeals to my OCD-in-rebellion personality.

In any case, I'm going to post my 12-year-old mother's choices of poems, working front to back through the book. I haven't counted, so I don't know if she found 30 poems, or 18, or 43. So I'll keep doing one a day until I run out or hit May 6, whichever comes first. They seem to be arranged sort of chronologically, or thematically, starting with babies and ending with ... the end, I guess. The first section is called "The Golden Age."

Long intro. Very short poem:

Lullaby
From "The Princess"
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west
Under the silver moon;
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.