The Retreat, By: Henry Vaughan (1622?-1695)

               Happy those early days, when I

               Shin’d in my angel-infancy!

               Before I understood this place

               Appointed for my second race,

               Or taught my soul to fancy ought

               But a white, celestial thought;

               When yet I had not walk’d above

               A mile or two from my first love,

               And looking back (at that short space)

             Could see a glimpse of his bright face;

             When on some gilded cloud or flow’r

             My gazing soul would dwell an hour,

             And in those weaker glories spy

             Some shadows of eternity;

             Before I taught my tongue to wound

             My conscience with a sinful sound,

             Or had the black art to dispense,

             A sev’ral sin to ev’ry sense,

             But felt through all this fleshly dress

             Bright shoots of everlastingness.

                  O how I long to travel back,

             And tread again that ancient track!

             That I might once more reach that plain,

             Where first I left my glorious train,

             From whence th’ enlighten’d spirit sees

             That shady city of palm trees.

             But ah! my soul with too much stay

             Is drunk, and staggers in the way.

             Some men a forward motion love,

             But I by backward steps would move;

             And when this dust falls to the urn,

             In that state I came, return.

“I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” By: William Wordsworth

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;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

My Kingdom – By: Louisa May Alcott

A little kingdom I possess
where thoughts and feelings dwell,
And very hard I find the task
of governing it well;
For passion tempts and troubles me,
A wayward will misleads,
And selfishness its shadow casts
On all my words and deeds.

How can I learn to rule myself,
to be the child I should,
Honest and brave, nor ever tire
Of trying to be good?
How can I keep a sunny soul
To shine along life’s way?
How can I tune my little heart
To sweetly sing all day?

Dear Father, help me with the love
that casteth out my fear;
Teach me to lean on thee, and feel
That thou art very near,
That no temptation is unseen
No childish grief too small,
Since thou, with patience infinite,
Doth soothe and comfort all.

I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win
Nor seek to conquer any world
Except the one within.
Be thou my guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in myself
And dare to take command.

Let me go where’er I will. By: Ralph Waldo Emerson

Let me go where’er I will,

     I hear a sky-born music still:

     It sounds from all things old,

       It sounds from all things young,

     From all that’s fair, from all that’s foul,

       Peals out a cheerful song.

     It is not only in the rose,

       It is not only in the bird,

     Not only where the rainbow glows,

       Nor in the song of woman heard,

     But in the darkest, meanest things

     There alway, alway something sings.

     ‘Tis not in the high stars alone,

       Nor in the cup of budding flowers,

     Nor in the redbreast’s mellow tone,

       Nor in the bow that smiles in showers,

     But in the mud and scum of things

     There alway, alway something sings.

***************************************

How far can a person go to fulfill the dreams of someone else? Find out in the pages of Dream’s Sake, a general fiction novel by Jyoti Arora. For more information and free preview of first chapter, please visit: http://www.jyotiarora.com/dream-s-sake

~*~The Solitary Reaper~*~ William Wordsworth. 1770–1850

If ever I seek to find my own reflection in a verse, then the first four lines of this beautiful poem are most likely where I’ll have to face it. I just hope if the first few lines are true, the last two of the same stanza would prove true too and the song that I’m trying to sing would be borne on the wings of wind and spread far and wide.

~*~

BEHOLD her, single in the field,

  Yon solitary Highland Lass!

Reaping and singing by herself;

  Stop here, or gently pass!

Alone she cuts and binds the grain,                  5

And sings a melancholy strain;

O listen! for the Vale profound

Is overflowing with the sound.

No Nightingale did ever chaunt

  More welcome notes to weary bands    10

Of travellers in some shady haunt,

  Among Arabian sands:

A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard

In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,

Breaking the silence of the seas                  15

Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings?—

  Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

For old, unhappy, far-off things,

  And battles long ago:     20

Or is it some more humble lay,

Familiar matter of to-day?

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,

That has been, and may be again?

Whate’er the theme, the Maiden sang    25

  As if her song could have no ending;

I saw her singing at her work,

  And o’er the sickle bending;—

I listen’d, motionless and still;

And, as I mounted up the hill,      30

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

How far can a person go to fulfill the dreams of someone else?

Find out in the pages of Dream’s Sake, a general fiction novel by Jyoti Arora.

For more information and free preview of first chapter click on the picture or visit:www,jyotiarora.com

Dream's Sake A Novel by Jyoti Arora

Dream’s Sake
A Novel by Jyoti Arora