Dear fellow Zuikoids. I am going to do something that I hope that you
don't mind, but the following is a poem, written by my late grandmother,
which probably influenced us towards the arts more than anything. My
understanding is that it was published somewhere between 1935-1950,
however, I am typing this from a photocopy of the origional manuscript. I
trust that you will enjoy it as much as we have. She passed away in 1972
and my parents made copies of the origional documents for each of us to
enjoy. Nearly every child and grandchild of hers advanced in either the
music or visual arts--and what's really scairy can speak and write in ryme.
(much to the chagrine of our mates)
A Solemn Thought
by Elsie Caroline Hasty Norton (1896-1972)
There are things of wondrous beauty as we pass along life's way,
That we sometimes fail to notice as we toil from day to day.
Many travel near and yonder, seeking man-made beauties rare,
But we need to stop and ponder God's handiwork is everywhere.
I shall never cease to wonder, never cease to feel a thrill,
When I see a stand of evergreens against a snow-clad hill.
Or to wander in the evening, watch the western sky grow pale,
While the breezes whisper through the pines along a woodland trail.
If you'd like to see a picture that to me seems quite sublime,
Then walk along an orchard path in apple blossom time.
Or to have your heartstrings touched as by a gentle old refrain,
Smell the fragrant pungent perfume of lilacs in the rain.
Have you seen a winter's landscape when the sun was shining bright,
And the glory of its purity lay over fields of white.
And a million crystals glittered on the hills both high and low,
Like a fairy queen had scattered all her diamonds in the snow?
There are sounds and sights so common that we carelessly ignore,
I can hear and see so many from my own back kitchen door.
The crowing of a rooster on an early morn in June,
Or a starlit night with silver clouds a-sailing pass the moon.
If a single little flower grows uncared for and alone,
If its fragrance and its beauty are to the world unknown,
'Tis as sweet as any other as it lifts its petals up,
To the hummingbird that comes to sip the nectar from its cup.
There are those who love the music of composers of great name,
So find their joys fulfillment in the music halls of fame.
But to me there is nothing sweeter and I'm sure none can deny,
Than a mother softly singing to her baby, Brahms lullaby,
Or the murmer of a brooklet on its way to meet the sea,
Or a violin when someone plays The Minuet in "G".
Some people make their homes beside the ocean deep and wide,
And everyday watch the ebb and rising of the tide.
And as the watch, they cannot help but wonder more and more,
What the great wild waves are saying to the sands upon the shore.
Sometimes I waken early and in my bed I lay,
And listen to the stirring of the new awakening day.
The sleepy twitter of the birds up in the tree tops high,
The far off closing of a door and a milkman passing by.
My curtains gently furl out and things I know so well
Seem somehow to be different, touched by a magic spell.
I hear the sounds that drift in from beyond my window sill,
Like a silver horn a-blowing far across a distant hill.
I have walked along a roadside and a quiet peace I've found,
As the autumn leaves of red and gold come whirling to the ground.
Then why do we wish for riches when nothing we could buy,
Could halfway match the beauty of our world that lies close by.
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