"Immortality" by Clare Harner 1934

Do not stand


          By my grave, and weep.
     

I am not there,
          

I do not sleep—


I am the thousand winds that blow


I am the diamond glints in snow


I am the sunlight on ripened grain,


I am the gentle, autumn rain.


As you awake with morning’s hush,


I am the swift, up-flinging rush


Of quiet birds in circling flight,


I am the day transcending night.


     Do not stand


          By my grave, and cry—


     I am not there,


          I did not die.
— Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934

Above is the version published in The Gypsy of December 1934

(page 16), under the title "Immortality" 

and followed by the author's name and location:

"CLARE HARNER, Topeka, Kan."[1]: 424 

The indentation and line breaks are as given there. 

 

Photo taken: Bee Porteous, 1.09pm, August 19, 2024.

Delicate, open bell-shaped pink flowers Azelea/Rhododendron

'Abundance of Beauty' -

'A beauty that blossoms abundantly and without reserve'. 

"Flowers and Their Messages" - The Mother

Treasures For Faith and Harmony

My tiny shadow lies beside me,

a small baby,

contained in a decorative lace bassinet,

so far away from familiar faces,

no places for me to see their smiles

as I am fostered miles from home

and this was then when

I lost the bonds of all I knew to be true.

 

I cling to soft ribbons and lace

I cannot swim, I never do,

I only float and hope

I will be found safe and sound.

Venus in Libra led me through

to my deep affinity with unusual containers

as safe places for treasures, feathers,

baskets holding fallen nests,

seed pods and bells,

gemstones and pebbles from wild places

in carved wooden bowls,

or in tin, or timber trunks,

storing Raku with gifts from you.

Almost all my containers

do contain more containers,

and somewhere within me

lives all faith and harmony,

knowing that what is tucked inside,

a floral or painted box

will be, found eventually.

I see these as places of safe-keeping

almost every thing will live anew with you

or 'who-ever-new, finds what is 'left behind'.

All I know is one day

I will 'go' in cotton calico,

so 'my container',

will hopefully, quietly be, with the trees.

 
 

Some Spring Is Springing

Flowing, growing, glowing, 

knowing, showing,

showering, flowering:

 

Oh Joy, I see a few new blooms

rising from the frosted soil.

They do it simply,

ever so quietly,

until two are peeping through,

so I see, these blue early signs

our winter will subside one day

as sunshine lights our way.
 

Some spring is springing
It’s about waiting and watching.

It’s about beginning and believing,

or believing and beginning.

It is knowing the soil will help the bulbs.

The rain will help the bulbs,

the sun will help the bulbs,

until one cold morning,

up will pop!! the beautiful flowers,

then more little bulbs,

keep on growing further on up the hill,

like a family always knowing,

Life blooms many times over, Roses to Clover....
 

I find Winter-Spring flowering bulbs

one of the simple joys of life.

 

Sweet joy to each of you 

Love Bee xo