Fuzebox Photography | jADE


January 24, 2015  •  Leave a Comment
Meet  Jade.
She is an intern of mine and a budding photographer. Her work is just as beautiful as she is.
Thank you Jade for reminding me I can be creative too sometimes.
A Gleam of Sunshine

This is the place. Stand still, my steed, 
Let me review the scene, 
And summon from the shadowy Past 
The forms that once have been. 

The Past and Present here unite 
Beneath Time's flowing tide, 
Like footprints hidden by a brook, 
But seen on either side. 

Here runs the highway to the town; 
There the green lane descends, 
Through which I walked to church with thee, 
O gentlest of my friends! 

The shadow of the linden-trees 
Lay moving on the grass; 
Between them and the moving boughs, 
A shadow, thou didst pass. 

Thy dress was like the lilies, 
And thy heart as pure as they: 
One of God's holy messengers 
Did walk with me that day. 

I saw the branches of the trees 
Bend down thy touch to meet, 
The clover-blossoms in the grass 
Rise up to kiss thy feet, 

"Sleep, sleep to-day, tormenting cares, 
Of earth and folly born!" 
Solemnly sang the village choir 
On that sweet Sabbath morn. 

Through the closed blinds the golden sun 
Poured in a dusty beam, 
Like the celestial ladder seen 
By Jacob in his dream. 

And ever and anon, the wind, 
Sweet-scented with the hay, 
Turned o'er the hymn-book's fluttering leaves 
That on the window lay. 

Long was the good man's sermon, 
Yet it seemed not so to me; 
For he spake of Ruth the beautiful, 
And still I thought of thee. 

Long was the prayer he uttered, 
Yet it seemed not so to me; 
For in my heart I prayed with him, 
And still I thought of thee. 

But now, alas! the place seems changed; 
Thou art no longer here: 
Part of the sunshine of the scene 
With thee did disappear. 

Though thoughts, deep-rooted in my heart, 
Like pine-trees dark and high, 
Subdue the light of noon, and breathe 
A low and ceaseless sigh; 

This memory brightens o'er the past, 
As when the sun, concealed 
Behind some cloud that near us hangs 
Shines on a distant field.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 



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