1/19 The Moment: The poetry of my soul
It is still snowing beautifully outside. I get up every chapter or less to check and see if it continues, for it is a light snow, though thick, and I cannot tell from the couch if it still falls past my window. The clock long since chimed its last for the night, and the others are in the lobby watching a TV show, but I - I am holed up, lonely and aching to enjoy the snow, yet content to remain inside as I am not assured of the pleasure of a playmate in the wintry wonderland. Yet I continue to check, though tales of dragons and of wars and the music of Braveheart draw me deeper into my books. The beauty of the night is glorious, and I know that before dawn it will be marred and dirtied by the snowplow. I cannot take a picture, but I can drink in the sight through my own two lenses and hold the treasure in my heart as the music swells and the snow continues to gently fall.
from The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!
The wind's in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather;
The stars are in blosson, the moon is in flower,
And bright are the windows of Night in her tower.
Dance all ye joyful, now dance all together!
Soft is the grass, and let foot be like feather!
The river is silver, the shadows are fleeting;
Merry is May-time, and merry our meeting.
Sing we now softly, and dreams let us weave him!
Wind him in slumber and there let us leave him!
The wanderer sleepeth. Now soft be his pillow!
Lullaby! Lullaby! Alder and Willow!
Sigh no more Pine, till the wind of the morn!
Fall Moon! Dark be the land!
Hush! Hush Oak, Ash and Thorn!
Hushed be all water, till dawn is at hand!