The Blue Ridge Poem by Harriet Monroe

The Blue Ridge

Poem by Harriet Monroe.
 
Still and calm,
In purple robes of kings,
The low-lying mountains sleep at the edge of the world.
The forests cover them like mantles;
Day and night
Rise and fall over them like the wash of waves.
Asleep, they reign.
Silent, they say all.
Hush me, O slumbering mountains –
Send me dreams.

Harriet Monroe

December 23, 1860 – September 26, 1936
 
Video by Jack Kost
2025
 
Blue Ridge Mountains (2019)
Photographs by Jack Kost.
 
Sound effect credit:
Forest wind and birds
by freesound_community
from Pixabay.

The Long Road Poem by John Oxenham:

 

The Long Road

Poem by John Oxenham.
 
Long the road,
    Till Love came down it!
Dark the life,
    Till Love did crown it!
Dark the life,
    And long the road,
Till Love came
    To share the load!
For the touch
    Of Love transfigures
All the road
    And all its rigours.
Life and Death,
Love’s touch transfigures.
Life and Death
    And all that lies
In between,
Love sanctifies.
Once the heavenly spark is lighted,
Once in love two hearts united,
Nevermore
    Shall aught that was be
As before.

Recommended reading:

Bees in Amber: A Little Book of Thoughtful Verse

by John Oxenham.

Picture:

The Road Ahead (2019)
by Jack Kost

Video by Jack Kost
2025

Music credit:
Softer Love
By Clavier-Music
From Pixabay
 

Dogwood Blossoms Poem by George Marion McClellan.

Dogwood Blossoms

Poem by George Marion McClellan.
 
To dreamy languors and the violet mist
Of early Spring, the deep sequestered vale
Gives first her paling-blue Miamimist,
Where blithely pours the cuckoo’s annual tale
Of Summer promises and tender green,
Of a new life and beauty yet unseen.
The forest trees have yet a sighing mouth,
Where dying winds of March their branches swing,
While upward from the dreamy, sunny South,
A hand invisible leads on the Spring.
His rounds from bloom to bloom the bee begins
With flying song, and cowslip wine he sups,
Where to the warm and passing southern winds,
Azaleas gently swing their yellow cups.
Soon everywhere, with glory through and through,
The fields will spread with every brilliant hue.
But high o’er all the early floral train,
Where softness all the arching sky resumes,
The dogwood dancing to the winds’ refrain,
In stainless glory spreads its snowy blooms.
 

Recommended Reading:

Poems by George Marion McClellan

Video by Jack Kost.
2025.
 
Dogwood Blossom photographs by Jack Kost.
Sound effect credit:
Forest wind and birds
by freesound_community
from Pixabay.

Dogwood Blossoms Poem by George Marion McClellan.

Dogwood Blossoms

Poem by George Marion McClellan.
 
To dreamy languors and the violet mist
Of early Spring, the deep sequestered vale
Gives first her paling-blue Miamimist,
Where blithely pours the cuckoo’s annual tale
Of Summer promises and tender green,
Of a new life and beauty yet unseen.
The forest trees have yet a sighing mouth,
Where dying winds of March their branches swing,
While upward from the dreamy, sunny South,
A hand invisible leads on the Spring.
His rounds from bloom to bloom the bee begins
With flying song, and cowslip wine he sups,
Where to the warm and passing southern winds,
Azaleas gently swing their yellow cups.
Soon everywhere, with glory through and through,
The fields will spread with every brilliant hue.
But high o’er all the early floral train,
Where softness all the arching sky resumes,
The dogwood dancing to the winds’ refrain,
In stainless glory spreads its snowy blooms.
 

Recommended reading:
Poems by George Marion McClellan.
Video by Jack Kost.
2025.
 
Dogwood Blossom photographs by Jack Kost.
Sound effect credit:
Forest wind and birds
by freesound_community
from Pixabay.

Dogwood Blossoms Poem by George Marion McClellan.

 

Dogwood Blossoms

Poem by George Marion McClellan.

To dreamy languors and the violet mist

Of early Spring, the deep sequestered vale
Gives first her paling-blue Miamimist,

Where blithely pours the cuckoo’s annual tale
Of Summer promises and tender green,

Of a new life and beauty yet unseen.
The forest trees have yet a sighing mouth,

Where dying winds of March their branches swing,
While upward from the dreamy, sunny South,

A hand invisible leads on the Spring.
His rounds from bloom to bloom the bee begins

With flying song, and cowslip wine he sups,
Where to the warm and passing southern winds,

Azaleas gently swing their yellow cups.
Soon everywhere, with glory through and through,

The fields will spread with every brilliant hue.
But high o’er all the early floral train,

Where softness all the arching sky resumes,
The dogwood dancing to the winds’ refrain,

In stainless glory spreads its snowy blooms.

Recommended reading:

Poems by George Marion McClellan.


Video by Jack Kost.

2025.


Dogwood Blossom photographs by Jack Kost.

Sound effect credit:
Forest wind and birds

by freesound_community

from Pixabay.

The Last Word of a Bluebird, poem by Robert Frost:

 

The Last Word of a Bluebird

Poem by Robert Frost.
 
As I went out a Crow
In a low voice said, “Oh,
I was looking for you.
How do you do?
I just came to tell you
To tell Lesley (will you?)
That her little Bluebird
Wanted me to bring word
That the north wind last night
That made the stars bright
And made ice on the trough
Almost made him cough
His tail feathers off.
He just had to fly!
But he sent her Good-by,
And said to be good,
And wear her red hood,
And look for skunk tracks
In the snow with an ax –
And do everything!
And perhaps in the spring
He would come back and sing.”
 

Recommended reading:
 

Robert Frost: Collected Poems, Prose, & Plays

 
Video by Jack Kost
2025
 
Music credit:
 
Cold October – Soft Piano Music
by Clavier-Music
From Pixabay
 
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Robert Frost, Video, Jack Kost, MP4, 2025, poem, The Last Word of a Bluebird, March 26,