Songs of Experience

Loved the Stars

via

The above image can be found on countless boards on sites such as Pinterest and Tumblr. It fits a Shimmering Star's aesthetic, so I shared it last year.

Yesterday, I could not remember the exact words of the quote so like a good library employee I googled the terms "loved the stars" and "Galileo." Imagine my surprise when I found out that Galileo never said it.

The lines are from Sarah Williams' poem, "The Old Astronomer:"

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

If I learned one thing from the many papers I wrote in college, citing sources is important. The internet breeds myths, and we need to make sure we do our part to keep it as accurate as possible.

Red, Red Rose

Enchanted

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!” John Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Poems

"Come Thou Fount" Poetics

The old hymns are amazing. In Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing, Robert Robinson uses beautiful poetics to glorify God:

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

The other verses are just as moving. Listen to Sufjan Stevens sing the lyrics:




I am convinced art, music, poetry and writing are gifts of God; we are creative because we are created. 

Poetic Inspirations: T.S. Eliot

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot 15-22