Camera-Shy

A ruby-throated hummingbird

Has found a ruby throne

Before a single leaf has stirred

He's made it all his own.

And from the kitchen windows

I watch him sit and preen

But when the flush of daylight grows

He's nowhere to be seen

I'd like to get a picture snapped

Beneath a clear blue sky

  But I suppose I must adapt--

My friend is camera-shy.

Linking with Saturday's Critters
and Wild Bird Wednesday

Thankfulness

By Adelaide Anne Procter

1825-1864

My God, I thank Thee who hast made 
The earth so bright;
So full of splendour and of joy,
Beauty and light;
So many glorious things are here,
Noble and right!

I thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made

Joy to abound;
So many gentle thoughts and deeds
Circling us round,
That in the darkest spot of earth
Some love is found.

I thank Thee more that all our joy 

Is touched with pain;

That shadows fall on brightest hours;

That thorns remain,

So that earth's bliss may be our guide,
And not our chain.

For Thou, who knowest, Lord, how soon

Our weak heart clings,
Hath given us joys, tender and true,
Yet all with wings;
So that we see, gleaming on high,
Diviner things.

I thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept
The best in store:
We have enough, yet not too much
To long for more;
A yearning for a deeper peace,
Not known before. 

I thank Thee Lord, that here our souls

Though amply blessed,

Can never find, although they seek,

A perfect rest--

Nor ever shall, until they lean

On Jesus' breast!

. . . . . . . .

Adelaide Anne Procter lived in London and was a popular poet, 

the favorite poet of Queen Victoria. 

She died at the age of 38 after a protracted battle with tuberculosis.




Linking with Weekly Top Shot

All the Others Can Sing

This little poem is one my Mother used to recite when we were young:

"All the others can sing," he dolefully said,

"All the others can sing," said he.

 So he sat and drooped.

 But as far and wide the music was borne on the air's warm tide,

 A sudden thought came to the sad little bird

 And he lifted his head as within him it stirred;

"If I cannot sing, I can listen!" he cried.

"Ho, ho! I can listen!" he cried.

                                  by Julia C. R. Dorr