Tag: art
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“Lift Every Voice and Sing”
“God of our weary years, God of our silent tears, Thou who has brought us thus far on the way; Thou who has by Thy might Led us into the light,” — excerpt from “Lift Every Voice and Sing” by James Weldon Johnson
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The Streetsweeper
“Be a bush if you can’t be a tree. If you can’t be a highway, just be a trail. If you can’t be a sun, be a star. For it isn’t by size that you win or fail. Be the best of whatever you are.” – Dr. Martin Luther King, JR.
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On Quitting
How much grit do you think you’ve got? Can you turn from joys that you like a lot? Have you ever tested yourself to know How far with yourself your will can go? If you want to know if you have grit, Just pick out a joy that you like, and quit.
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“And When My Sorrow was Born” by Khalil Gibran (1883 – 1931)
And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the house-top—and yet no one heeded me. And my Joy and I were alone, unsought and unvisited.
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“The Harlem Dancer” by Claude McKay (1889 – 1948)
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls, Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze; But looking at her falsely-smiling face, I knew her self was not in that strange place.
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“Afternoon on a Hill” by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 – 1950)
I will be the gladdest thing Under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers And not pick one….
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“Acquainted with the Night” by Robert Frost (1874–1963)
I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
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“The Sun Has Long Been Set” by William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850)
The sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet Among the bushes and trees; There’s a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, And a far-off wind that rushes, And a sound of water that gushes, And the cuckoo’s sovereign cry Fills all the hollow…
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Poem: “Traveling” by William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850)
And no one can tell whither.—my sweet friend! We two have had such happy hours together That my heart melts in me to think of it.
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Poem: “The Star” by Jane Taylor
When the blazing sun is set, And the grass with dew is wet, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Stanza & Story 