The minstrels played their Christmas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves;
While, smitten by a lofty moon,
The encircling laurels, thick with leaves,
———A simple Child,
That lightly draws its breath,
And feels its life in every limb,
What should it know of death?
I read this poem many, many years ago in a children's poem book. When my youngest brother passed...I was broken. At his funeral, someone said, "There are only 5 of you now." I thought of this...
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Honestly! How lovely is this poem when read aloud. I can see the yellow heads of the daffodils doing their sprightly dance! And, when in the meditative state, I can feel them in my heart...