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Alisa Williams

Poetry and Music for November

An old man planted and dug and tended,
Toiling in joy from dew to dew;
The sun was kind, and the rain befriended;
Fine grew his orchard and fair to view.
Then he said: "I will quiet my thrifty fears,
For here is fruit for my failing years."

But even then the storm-clouds gathered,
Swallowing up the azure sky;
The sweeping winds into white foam lathered
The placid breast of the bay, hard by;
Then the spirits that raged in the darkened air
Swept o'er his orchard and left it bare.

Andrews University Installs New President Andrea Luxton

The inauguration ceremony of Andrea Luxton, sixth president of Andrews University, occurred on Tuesday, October 25, 2016, at 10:30 a.m. Presidents and official delegates from fellow Seventh-day Adventist institutions, as well as neighboring colleges and universities, were in attendance to welcome President Luxton to her new role. 

Poetry and Music for October

The trees are in their autumn beauty,
The woodland paths are dry,
Under the October twilight the water
Mirrors a still sky;
Upon the brimming water among the stones
Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me
Since I first made my count;
I saw, before I had well finished,
All suddenly mount
And scatter wheeling in great broken rings
Upon their clamorous wings.

A Life Changed by Hymns: Jon Davidson Reflects on His Latest Album

Singer and songwriter Jon Davidson, a graduate of Andrews University, has written and performed music from a variety of genres. He has appeared in Entertainment Weekly and on E! Television. Jon's music has appeared in everything from MTV shows to Fendi and Burgerville compilation albums to several feature films. He’s toured and performed in 45 states, six Canadian provinces, and five countries. On October 8, his latest solo album, HYMN, releases. In this interview, he tells us more about his projects and the impact music has on his life.

Poetry and Music for September

The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel-
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Burning brush,
New books, erasers,
Chalk, and such.
The bee, his hive,
Well-honeyed hum,
And Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.

Poetry and Music for August

The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.

The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer’s day?

“The bee is not afraid of me” by Emily Dickinson

 

“Summer” composed by Joe Hisaishi
 

Poetry and Music for Summer

Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies’ soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.

And now for the kiss of the wind,
And the touch of the air’s soft hands,
With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
With the freedom of lakes and lands.

I envy the farmer’s boy
Who sings as he follows the plow;
While the shining green of the young blades lean
To the breezes that cool his brow.

Poetry and Music for Father’s Day

Only a dad with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come and to hear his voice.

Only a dad with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.

Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd,

Poetry and Music for Mother’s Day

Here I lean over you, small son, sleeping
Warm in my arms,
And I con to my heart all your dew-fresh charms,
As you lie close, close in my hungry hold. . .
Your hair like a miser's dream of gold,
And the white rose of your face far fairer,
Finer, and rarer
Than all the flowers in the young year's keeping;
Over lips half parted your low breath creeping
Is sweeter than violets in April grasses;
Though your eyes are fast shut I can see their blue,
Splendid and soft as starshine in heaven,
With all the joyance and wisdom given

April

Then April, gloom and shine,
Sad, merry, wilful, meek,
With a crocus in her tresses
And with tears upon her cheek.

Excerpt from “The Masque of Months” by Edgar Fawcett

 

 

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.

“April Rain Song” by Langston Hughes

 

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