Listen my children, and you shall hear…..

locationFt Myers Beach
moodnostalgic nostalgic
music: bird song and wind

I have this set of books given to my mother, with my grandmother’s inscription on the flyleaf:  Mary Elizabeth Snyder, 29 Genung St, Middletown, N.Y.  Christmas 1946.

There are 10 Junior Classics, but I always loved the orange one.  Because on page 220 was my favorite verse.  Paul Revere’s Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  I memorized the beginning stanzas as a child, an elementary school child.

Today I am pondering that child. I loved that book, I treasured that book.   I loved that poem and read it over and over.   When assigned to memorize a poem in school, I already had it done.  As I’m looking at the book today, I recognize many of the poems and know I had read them.
But none had such meaning for me.  I recall disliking poetry in school.  I never understood the hidden messages.

I understood Longfellow.  I understood the story he was telling.  I loved that it rhymed. What an odd little girl I was.

Still today I treasure books, I love to hold them and leaf through them.  I love the stories of American history.  I only like poetry that rhymes.  I’ve never given much thought to the person I was and the person I am, that maybe much is the same.

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Listen my children, and you shall hear…..

locationFt Myers Beach
moodnostalgic nostalgic
music: bird song and wind

I have this set of books given to my mother, with my grandmother’s inscription on the flyleaf:  Mary Elizabeth Snyder, 29 Genung St, Middletown, N.Y.  Christmas 1946.

There are 10 Junior Classics, but I always loved the orange one.  Because on page 220 was my favorite verse.  Paul Revere’s Ride by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  I memorized the beginning stanzas as a child, an elementary school child.

Today I am pondering that child. I loved that book, I treasured that book.   I loved that poem and read it over and over.   When assigned to memorize a poem in school, I already had it done.  As I’m looking at the book today, I recognize many of the poems and know I had read them.
But none had such meaning for me.  I recall disliking poetry in school.  I never understood the hidden messages.

I understood Longfellow.  I understood the story he was telling.  I loved that it rhymed. What an odd little girl I was.

Still today I treasure books, I love to hold them and leaf through them.  I love the stories of American history.  I only like poetry that rhymes.  I’ve never given much thought to the person I was and the person I am, that maybe much is the same.

Leave a Reply

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