All of my life I’ve loved poetry. I memorized it throughout my childhood and college years for competitions. For seven years I taught public speaking at a Christian college in the Midwest, and I coached intercollegiate competitive speech (forensics) there as well. The first gift Rob ever gave me was a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets. Poetry is the language of the heart; it uniquely expresses our joys and sorrows. Welcome to “Poetry Fridays,” my curated collection of favorite poems that reflect on the richness of life in the midst of love and loss. Have a favorite you’d like to share? Send me a note!
by Christina Rossetti
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.