Music of the Week

HSMA's Symphonic Band played this piece, and I got to sit up in the balcony and watch while waiting for my choir's next performance. 'Twas quite interesting, though not as 'moving' as orchestra.

Poetry for Thought

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm,
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

~E. Dickinson

Feeling the Brightness of the Season

Yes, I am. And the Inspiration. I've always loved singing carols under the stars in the crisp, icy air. Last night I think that it was the stars themselves that were singing, and if only the world could get quiet enough it would hear them.

Christmas Song

The Stars are ringing

Hear them singing

Rehearse the ancient words in verse

Each beam is bringing

In its singing

Stories of the Heavens’ glories

Snow is glistening

And is listening

Both reflecting and directing

To believers

Glad receivers

Bright eternal light.

Music of the Week

One of my very favorite pieces.

Poetry for Thought

The Touch of Master's Hand

 

'Twas battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

And many a man with life out of tune
All battered with bourbon and gin
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

~~~Myra Brooks Welch

Combining Two Things into One Ridicules Activity.

Cello Wars.
(StarWars parody)

Music of the Week