I’m posting this in honor of St. Brigid of Ireland, whose feast day is February 1. I think she would have liked this poem, and would know it to be about her love for Christ.
A BIRTHDAY
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair* and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
-Christina Rossetti
*vair: A fur, probably squirrel, much used in medieval times to line and trim robes.
Gladsome Lights 
Beautiful poem! Yes, I’m sure it would please St. Brigid to a T! (I wonder where that expression originated)
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Beautiful! I enjoyed the wisdom from St. Anthony in the last poem, too. I reread some old blog posts lately and know I’ve been guilty of all three, but also grateful I wrote things down to remind myself of all the reasons to be grateful.
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Dear Gretchen, I love this poem, and it reminded me of a new akathist for St. Brigid written by Paul Kingsnorth. see https://www.paulkingsnorth.net/brigid. His essay about Bridgid is also worth a read. https://paulkingsnorth.substack.com/p/how-to-build-a-goddess. Blessings.
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Thank you, Susan!
I saw that akathist and printed it out yesterday, hoping to use it today ❤️
You are so kind to think of me.
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