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The Ebb and Flow
by Edward Taylor (c. 1642-1729)
When first thou on me, Lord, wrought’st thy sweet print,
My heart was made thy tinder box.
My ’ffections were thy tinder in’t:
Where fell thy sparks by drops.
Those holy sparks of heavenly fire that came
Did ever catch and often out would flame.
But now my heart is made thy censer trim,
Full of thy golden altar’s fire,
To offer up sweet incense in
Unto thyself entire:
I find my tinder scarce thy sparks can feel
That drop out from thy holy flint and steel.
Hence doubts out bud for fear thy fire in me
’S a mocking Ignis Fatuus;
Or lest thine altars fire out be,
It’s hid in ashes thus.
Yet when the bellows of thy spirit blow
Away mine ashes, then thy fire doth glow.
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By Edward Chermerinsky in the ABA Journal concerning the current’s regime’s attempt to get the Supreme Court to curtail nationwide injunctions: “The context of this case is a challenge to a controversial executive order by a conservative president. But conservative state governments and organizations repeatedly sought nationwide injunctions during the Biden and Obama presidencies.
“The context is important in another sense as well. At the same time Trump is repeatedly asserting broad executive powers, he is attempting to limit the ability of courts to check them by having the Supreme Court end nationwide injunctions.”
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Day and Night
by Edith Nesbit (1858-1924)
All day the glorious Sun caressed
Wide meadows and white winding way,
And on the Earth’s soft heaving breast
Heart-warm his royal kisses lay.
She looked up in his face and smiled,
With mists of love her face seemed dim;
The golden Emperor was beguiled,
To dream she would be true to him.
Yet was there, ‘neath his golden shower,
No end of love for him astir;
She waited, dreaming, for the hour
When Night, her love, should come to her;
When ‘neath Night’s mantle she should creep
And feel his arms about her cling,
When the soft tears true lovers weep
Should make amends for everything.
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