Saturday, April 19, 2014

A Day of Sunshine

It seemed as though spring would never come this year. It's been a particularly long, harsh, cold Maine winter. Slowly but surely the weather is becoming tolerable. I've just started April vacation and could think of nothing better than to spend a day by the sea, face raised up toward the sun, laughing and catching up with one of my best friends. We packed a picnic, dressed warmly (it was a windy 58 degrees), and listened to the waves crash onto the shores of Crescent Beach.

Maine poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow couldn't have said it better in his poem A Day of Sunshine:

O gift of God! O perfect day:
Whereon shall no man work, but play;
Whereon it is enough for me,
Not to be doing, but to be! 

Through every fibre of my brain,
Through every nerve, through every vein,
I feel the electric thrill, the touch
Of life, that seems almost too much.

I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.  

And over me unrolls on high
The splendid scenery of the sky,
Where though a sapphire sea the sun
Sails like a golden galleon,

Towards yonder cloud-land in the West,
Towards yonder Islands of the Blest,
Whose steep sierra far uplifts
Its craggy summits white with drifts.  

Blow, winds! and waft through all the rooms
The snow-flakes of the cherry-blooms!
Blow, winds! and bend within my reach
The fiery blossoms of the peach!

O Life and Love! O happy throng
Of thoughts, whose only speech is song!
O heart of man! canst thou not be
Blithe as the air is, and as free? 

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