Being a page to put the odd entry that the webmaster thinks should be on the site, but doesn't really belong on any other page.

As of this writing, October 2, 2006, I change a little box on the Home page every month or so that gives readers a direct link to the appropriate section of the Calendar page because otherwise they would have to scroll down to the current dates. Because I am fond of quotations, I indulge myself by putting one in that box that makes a reference either to the current month or the time of year. I first used a few lines from “Theme in Yellow” for October, 2006, and I thought it would be nice to let visitors enjoy the entire poem. Here it is:

Theme in Yellow

I spot the hills	
With yellow balls in autumn.	
I light the prairie cornfields	
Orange and tawny gold clusters	
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October	
When dusk is fallen	
Children join hands	
And circle round me	
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;	
I am a jack-o’-lantern	
With terrible teeth	
And the children know	
I am fooling.

Carl Sandburg (1878-1967). Chicago Poems. 1916

I used the second quatrain from this poem for November, 2006:

589

The Night was wide, and furnished scant
With but a single Star –
That often as a Cloud it met –
Blew out itself – for fear –

The wind pursued the little Bush –
And drove away the Leaves
November left – then clambered up
And fretted in the Eaves –

No Squirrel went abroad –
A Dog's belated feet
Like intermittent Plush, he heard
Adown the empty Street –

To feel if Blinds be fast –
And closer to the fire –
Her little Rocking Chair to draw –
And shiver for the Poor –

The Housewife's gentle Task –
How pleasanter – said she
Unto the Sofa opposite –
The Sleet – than May, no Thee –

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886).

I used the first line from this poem in April, 2008. I was sorely tempted to use the last two:

Spring

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950). Second April. 1921

I used the fifth and sixth lines from this poem in May, 2008:

Song on May Morning
(1632–33)

Now the bright morning-star, Day’s harbinger,	
Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her	
The flowery May, who from her green lap throws	
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.	
  Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire
  Mirth, and youth, and warm desire!	
  Woods and groves are of thy dressing;	
  Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.	
Thus we salute thee with our early song,	
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

John Milton (1608–1674). Complete Poems.