Friday, April 07, 2006


well all i have to say is thank God for Sabrina. there are days when i see her and i feel so guilty for getting paid to be there, because she does more for me sometimes than i could ever do for her. on days like today, i see her and she is so full of happiness, and she always appreciates the small stuff. she knows how to take joy in everythign and she is never cruel or hurtful towards anyone. its at moments like this that i am given a moment of clarity, that i should be more like sabrina, and i realise i should live in each moment and find the joy in everything. and i sing buddy holly to her and she wraps her arms around me as we dance and everything is right in this world for only a moment. Thank God for Sabrina.

Sabrina Fair by John Milton
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that liv'st unseen
Within thy airy shell By slow Meander's margent green,
And in the violet-imbroider'd vale
Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well:Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair
That likest thy Narcissus are?
O if thou haveHid them in some flow'ry cave,Tell me but where
Sweet Queen of Parley, Daughter of the Sphere,
So mayst thou be translated to the skies,
And give resounding grace to all heav'ns harmonies.
Sabrina fair
Listen where thou art sitting
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
Listen for dear honour's sake,Goddess of the silver lake,Listen and save.
Listen and appear to us In name of great Oceanus,
By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,And Tethys' grave majestic pace;
By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,And the Carpathian wizard's hook;
By scaly Triton's winding shell,And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell;
By Leucothea's lovely hands,And her son that rules the strands;
By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet,And the songs of Sirens sweet;
By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,And fair Ligea's golden comb,
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks
Sleeking her soft alluring locks;
By all the nymphs that nightly dance
Upon thy streams with wily glance,
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
From thy coral-pav'n bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave,T
ill thou our summons answer'd have.Listen and save.
Sabrina rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings
By the rushy-fringed bank,Where grows the willow and the osier dank,
My sliding chariot stays,Thick set with agate, and the azurn sheenOf turkis blue, and em'rald green
That in the channel strays,Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feetO'er the cowslip's velvet head,
That bends not as I tread;Gentle swain at thy requestI am here.

1 comment:

mother unit said...

a question often posed...where is this "God" when babies r born with disabilities...i say oh He is right there showing his unconditional love and purity through them...i think of jordie and what a bundle of sweetness that girl is...