“Nature, the gentlest of Mothers is,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest of the waywardest.
Her admonition mild.
In forest and the hill,
by traveler be heard,
restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.
How fair her conversation
A summer afternoon,
Her household her assembly
And when the sun go down
Her voice among the Aisles,
Incite the timid prayer
of the minutest cricket,
the most unworthy flower.
When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps,
the bending from the sky
With infinite affection,
and infiniter care,
her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.”
"I'll wait to ring the bells awhile,
till the light and color have stayed the whole of spring,
until I believe it.
And if I count on you, Oh do not fly away
I dare not count on you, its too early to say" ~ The innocence mission
"He only loves those things, because he loves to see them break
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake
And someday you will ache like I ache"
~ Courtney Love
"He Humbled you and let you be hungry,
and fed you with manna which you did not know,
nor did your fathers know,
that He might make you understand
that man does not live on bread alone"
"The Murmuring of the bees has ceased;
But murmuring of some
Posterior, prophetic,
Has simultaneous come, -
The Lower metres of the year,
When Nature's laugh is done, -
The Revelations of the Book
Whose Genesis was June."
~ Emily Dickinson