Category Archives: love

As though they wished to stay.

June 12, 2026love, poetry, timeEdgar Degas, Tennessee WilliamsGretchenJoanna

WE HAVE NOT LONG TO LOVE

We have not long to love.
Light does not stay.
The tender things are those
we fold away.
Coarse fabrics are the ones
for common wear.
In silence I have watched you
comb your hair.
Intimate the silence,
dim and warm.
I could but did not, reach
to touch your arm.
I could, but do not, break
that which is still.
(Almost the faintest whisper
would be shrill.)
So moments pass as though
they wished to stay.
We have not long to love.
A night. A day….

-Tennessee Williams

Is this your heart arithmetic?

February 14, 2026love, poetryCarl Sandburg, inconstancyGretchenJoanna

HOW MUCH?

How much do you love me, a million bushels?
Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a lot more.

And tomorrow maybe only half a bushel?
Tomorrow maybe not even a half a bushel.

And is this your heart arithmetic?
This is the way the wind measures the weather.

-Carl Sandburg

My nest is in a watered shoot.

January 31, 2026love, poetry, saintsChristina Rossetti, St. Brigid of IrelandGretchenJoanna

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.