Sweet Disorder

Sweet Disorder
by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)

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A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction --
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher --
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly --
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat --
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility --
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.

How Do I Love Thee?

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

A Magic Moment

A Magic Moment I Remember

by Alexander Pushkin (1799-1837)
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A magic moment I remember:
I raised my eyes and you were there.
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that's beautiful and rare.

I pray to mute despair and anguish
To vain pursuits the world esteems,
Long did I near your soothing accents,
Long did your features haunt my dreams.

Time passed- A rebel storm-blast scattered
The reveries that once were mine
And I forgot your soothing accents,
Your features gracefully divine.

In dark days of enforced retirement
I gazed upon grey skies above
With no ideals to inspire me,
No one to cry for, live for, love.

Then came a moment of renaissance,
I looked up- you again are there,
A fleeting vision, the quintessence
Of all that`s beautiful and rare.

A Confession

A Confession
by Agnes Louise Storrie (1865-1936)

See Bead Crochet







You did not know, - how could you, dear, -
How much you stood for? Life in you
Retained its touch of Eden dew,
And ever through the droughtiest year
My soul could bring her flagon here
And fill it to the brim with clear
Deep draughts of purity:
And time could never quench the flame
Of youth that lit me through your eyes,
And cozened winter from my skies
Through all the years that went and came.
You did not know I used your name
To conjure by, and still the same
I found its potency.
You did not know that, as a phial
May garner close through dust and gloom
The essence of a rich perfume,
Romance was garnered in your smile
And touched my thoughts with beauty, while
The poor world, wise with bitter guile,
Outlived its chivalry.
You did not know - our lives were laid
So far apart - that thus I drew
The sunshine of my days from you,
That by your joy my own was weighed
That thus my debts your sweetness paid,
And of my heart's deep silence made
A lovely melody.

Daisies

This bead is named for the poem,
Daisies by Evaleen Stein (1863-1923)

You can read more about Fashion Flower Beads at Beadshaper




Daisies

At evening when I go to bed
I see the stars shine overhead;
They are the little daisies white
That dot the meadow of the Night.

And often while I'm dreaming so,
Across the sky the Moon will go;
It is a lady, sweet and fair,
Who comes to gather daisies there.

For, when at morning I arise,
There's not a star left in the skies;
She's picked them all and dropped them down
Into the meadows of the town.

Dear Chains

This bead is named for the poem, Dear
Chains, by the Russian poet, Alexander Pushkin (1799-1837)


You can read more about the necklace at Beadshaper




Rose-maiden, no, I do not quarrel

With these dear chains, they don't demean.

The nightingale embushed in laurel,

The sylvan singers' feathered queen,

Does she not bear the same sweet plight?

Near the proud rose's beauty dwelling,

And with her tender anthems thrilling

The dusk of a voluptuous night.

You Smiled

This bead is named for the poem, You Smiled,
by Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864).

You can read more about the bead at Beadshaper

Incidentally, The Beadshaper is presenting her work Saturday and Sunday, Aug 6 and 7, at Ayla's Originals in Evanston, Illinois.


You smiled, you spoke and I believed,
By every word and smile- deceived.

Another man would hope no more;
Nor hope I- what I hoped before.

But let not this last wish be vain;
Deceive, deceive me once again!