Echo of Good-by

The rush of green has come again

The shores have shed their frozen main

The seas of winter, harsh and cold

Glimmer once more with bits of gold

Yet, still upon Spring’s verdure I

Can hear an echo of good-by

Good-by

Good-by

The pleasantries of bloom and breeze

Fall prey, as seasons must appease

Time’s fixed appeal, a phantom reel

Of dust to dust’s eternal seal

And oft upon the vesper I

Perceive the echo of good-by

Good-by

Good-by

Parting; is it sweet sorrow then?

This agony of mortal men

Is it love’s everlasting hope

Of something far beyond earth’s slope?

Within this mien of moments I

Embrace the echo of good-by

Good-by

Good-by

J~

Til we Meet Again Johnny Ried

Till We Meet Again...Doris Day

It's Today...

It’s today; the threads of yesterday can never be un-spun

Tomorrow is a canvas on which nothing can be done

But now, beneath our feet and hands, oh see its offering splay

The framework of accomplishment transpires; it’s today

Step bold and humbly to the runway of time’s offering

For soon its coffers will be emptied of its silk and string

But now unfurls the imminence of all we do and say

To each the same, a span of moments to employ; Today

The pattern of a lifetime is not woven in the morrow

The filament of yesterday we cannot steal or borrow

But now, the invitation rings from morning’s gold and gray

As mercy lends its bounty in another gift; Today

Do not despair or try to bear what we can never alter

The past and future are its own; beneath their weight we falter

But God above in gracious love imparts His strength and stay

And He will give us just enough for what we need; Today

© Janet Martin

It's Twilight

It’s twilight; the cerulean sweep of azure afternoon

Declares the glory of the Lord in soft magenta swoon

The billowed breadth of moments like a highway to the sky

Claims one more day of gathered fray into the by and by

It’s twilight; now the vesper of the sparrow and the lark

Compete and then grow softer as the purple sky grows dark

The seeds that we have sown today are transiently concealed

Until the certain harvest when its fruit will be revealed

It’s twilight; money-changers count their nickels and their dimes

The mother rocks her baby and the opaque hour climbs

Up to the pinnacle of night before the morrow slips

Across its ephemeral form with ether fingertips

It’s twilight; lovely is its languid farewell melody

As darkness spreads its being over land and sky and sea

Darling, I draw the shutters, dim the lights and bar the door

But cannot mute the murmur where ink-fraught oceans implore

© Janet Martin~

Sequel to It’s Midnight and It’s Morning

I like this song...

 

Twilight Is Stealing

 

Words: Aldine Silliman Kieffer
Music: Twilight Is Stealing | Benjamin Carl Unseld

 

 

Twilight is stealing, over the sea,
Shadows are stealing dark on the lea;
Borne on the night winds, voices of yore
Come from the far-off shore.

Voices of loved ones, songs of the past,
Still linger round me while life shall last;
Lonely I wander, sadly I roam,
Seeking that far-off home.

Come in the twilight, come, come to me!
Bringing some message, over the sea,
Cheering my pathway, while here I roam,
Seeking that far-off home.

Refrain:
Far away beyond the starlit skies,
Where the love-light never, never dies,
Gleameth a mansion, filled with delight,
Sweet happy home so bright!

Portrait of a Mother (re-post)

 

 

She leaves her youth upon the grass
Where all her happy children pass
She dons a robe of profound merit
God will show her how to wear it
Its filament is firm yet mild
Woven by fingers of a child
Marked by the tears of joy and strife 

And quickened years that form her life
Graciously she bows her head
To wear this cloak of meeker thread

While stages fill and man applauds
The march of fame and lesser gods
She has known the best there is
In childish hugs and good-night kiss
And she has seen love's fairest prize

Gleaming in her children’s eyes
No wild applause or acclamation
For the hand which holds a nation
Silently she bows her head
And trusts God for His faithful lead

Her children rise and call her blessed

To recognize earth's utter-best
As humbly she her will resigns
To Hands which brush her face with lines
While Vanity would stop and gaze
With pity on her love-lined face
She would do it all again
To know she has not loved in vain
For Vanity with all its charms
Can never fill a mother’s arms

No great award, no Hall of Fame
To reward this humble name
Yet there can never be another
Name, as honorable as Mother
So while the buxom hours pass
To shed their petals on the grass
She will thank God for the hours
Where she tended sweeter flowers
In a garden like no other
Reserved for one which we call Mother

Janet Martin

Entranced...

Entranced, beneath spring’s azure dome I bow

The bud unfurls upon the barren limb

And all the dormant earth is aching now

To unveil from its depths the awe of Him

Who shapes beyond our visage His intent

Immersing us in whispers heaven-sent

These are the outer fringes of His work

This filament of spring, anemic green

Compared to kingdoms far above this earth

A heaven filled with wonders never seen

Incomprehensible; we cannot grasp

The glory-land that waits beyond this gasp

Eye has not seen; no thought ever conceived

The things God has prepared for His Beloved

His Gift to everyone who has believed

Will be perfected then beyond this trove

Entranced, beneath spring’s azure dome I bow

And worship Him from whence all blessings flow

© Janet Martin
 However, as it is written: "What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived" -- the things God has prepared for those who love him--2 Cor. 2:9

It's Morning...

The elements that shaped the midnight deep fade like the mist

That draped the valley where the golden tide of morning kissed

And banished its broad shadow, unfolding before our eyes

The diamond sheaf of dewy leaf and mercy’s common prize

The thundering of thought and stillness slips into the blue

The beckoning of heaven’s witness draws us to the avenue

Of slips and stumbles, hope and heartache’s tender-sweet caress

Where haughty man and humble share love’s selfsame tenderness

It’s morning; gone the river of ebony shimmering

Upon the cusp of trampled dust the unveiled glimmering

Of all that we cannot yet see, trembles in the embrace

Of He who cares for you and me with kind and patient grace

It’s morning; soon the bustle of mid-day will steal its hush

Where money-changers grapple and bold bargain-hunters rush

Darling, we shoulder ink-drops while the busy hour sweeps

The aftermath of midnight where an ocean's whisper weeps…

© Janet ~

It's Midnight

It’s midnight; all the colors of high noon are dark and deep

The marketplace is empty while the money-changers sleep

And all is still save for a distant mourning dove’s yoo-hoo

I wonder where you are tonight and are you lonesome too?

Time races yet it does not leave its footprint on the shore

No traces where the silence of expanses past implore

And yet I know that somewhere you remain as I, awake

Where midnight keens the hemlock’s sigh sweeping the starless lake

 No moonbeams pour their silver puddles to the placid dirt

The chivalry of star-song fades light-years before the earth

Tonight the shadows slip into spring’s chiffon-ruffled dell

Where once we wandered before Time demanded our farewell

It’s midnight; I remember when we laid beneath her touch

And we were not afraid of ticking clocks and years and such

But now Time slips its thieving fingers softly through the dark

Her moments never linger, their existence but a spark

It’s midnight; you and I should sleep like wise and weary men

But we are born to hear the ocean weeping in a pen

Darling, the world is not so large; the self-same starless deep

Hovers above us miles apart and keeping us from sleep

© J~

Befitted...

 

A cup of water given in Your name is all You ask

Lord Jesus, make me willing and befit me for the task

For it’s not what I do Jesus, but what You do through me

As stubborn will releases pride for love’s humility

Lord Jesus, you behold me not without but from within

The flesh is sordid vanity prone to thought’s lowest sin

But Lord, when I surrender giving You holy control

The glory of love’s splendor makes the lowly beautiful

Lord, let me never magnify my foolish, errant will

But Jesus, teach me to rely on You as You fulfill

Your work through me and I return my offering thankfully

A vessel for Your service as You shine Your light through me

© Janet Martin