Tea and Poetry

Tea and Poetry

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Today’s Tea Tidbit:

Social life in the first half of the eighteenth century became more sophisticated as the coffeehouse gave way to the tea garden, a social melting pot where royalty and the masses could promenade together.

 

The Love Dreams are Made of
by Kelly F. Barr

Your sparkling eyes, your smiling lips,
The touch of your fingertips upon my face,
Your arm round my shoulders–
And I snuggle into my favorite place.

Whispers of love and the scent of your skin
As you lean in to brush my lips with a kiss.
Stolen moments with you are such a treasure;
Filling my heart with unspeakable bliss.

Tea and Poetry

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For if I could please myself I would always
live as I lived there. I would choose always to
breakfast at exactly eight and to be at my desk
by nine, there to read or write till one. If a cup
of good tea or coffee could be brought to me
about eleven, so much the better. Tea should be
taken in solitude.
— C.S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy

Afternoon on a Hill
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
and then start down!

Tea and Poetry

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“Thank God for tea! What would the world do
without tea?
How did it exist? I am glad I was not born
before tea.”
—Reverend Sydney Smith

 

The Exhilaration of the Dance
by Kelly F. Barr

Whenever I hear music with a good beat
I cannot help but tap my feet.
My leg may bounce with my toe’s tap
And my hands may even begin to clap.

I cannot help myself as music fills the air;
I have to get up out of my chair.
My heart lightens as I take the chance
And my lips smile as I begin to dance.

No matter the type of dance I do
In bare feet, stockings, or shoes;
My worries and troubles flee
As my spirit is set free!

Tea and Poetry

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Today’s Tea Tidbit:

Why, the club was just the quietest place in the
world, a place where a woman could run in to
brush her hair and wash her hands, and change
her library book, and have a cup of tea.

Kathleen Thompson Norris,
“Saturday’s Child”

In A Library
by Emily Dickinson

A Precious, mouldering pleasure ’tis
To meet an antique book,
In just the dress his century wore;
A privilege, I think,

His venerable hand to take,
And warming in our own,
A passage back, or two, to make
To times when he was young.

His quaint opinions to inspect,
His knowledge to unfold
On what concerns our mutual mind,
The literature of old;

What interested scholars most,
What competitions ran
When Plato was certainty,
and Sophocles a man;

When Sappho was a living girl,
And Beatrice wore
The gown that Dante deified.
Facts, centuries before,

He traverses familiar,
As one should come to town
And tell you all your dreams were true:
He lived where dreams were sown.

His presence is enchantment,
You beg him not to go;
Old volumes shake their vellum heads
And tantalize, just so.

Tea and Poetry

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Today’s Tea Tidbit:

“Russian Caravan is a mellow black tea with the smoky flavor of Lapsang Souchong. It is an ideal tea to drink throughout the day.”

A Time to Talk
by Robert Frost

When a friend calls to me from the road
And slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don’t stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven’t hoed,
And shout from where I am, “What is it?”
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.

Tea and Poetry

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Today’s little tea tidbit is:

“The legend of tea’s origin is that it was discovered by Chinese Emperor Shen Nung in 2737 B.C., when a tea leaf accidentally fell into a bowl of hot water.”

 

Today I was inspired to write an original poem:

Too Long Summer

by Kelly F. Barr

Humidity and rain, humidity and rain,
The things of which this summer are made.
These summer months drag on and on
But I wish they were gone.

No sun and sandy beaches for me
As I prefer to remain burn-free.
Sticky clothes and sweated hair strands
Are more than I care to withstand.

I long for a cool breeze;
Colored leaves on the trees.
Scarecrows, pumpkins, Indian corn,
And gourds filling the horn.

Warm days, chilled nights
are my greatest delights.
The spicy tastes and scents of Fall:
My favorite season of them all.

Tea and Poetry

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Teatime is by its very nature a combination

of small luxuries arranged in social symmetry.

And although tea for one is certainly a fine

thing, the addition of a circle of dear friends to

share it with ensures the whole is larger than

its parts

                                                                                          Author Unknown

Today’s poem is by Robert Frost:

Love and a Question

A stranger came to the door at eve,
And he spoke the bridegroom fair.
He bore a green-white stick in his hand,
And, for all burden, care.
He asked with the eyes more than the lips
For a shelter for the night,
And he turned and looked at the road afar
Without a window light.

The bridegroom came forth into the porch
With “Let us look at the sky,
And question what of the night to be,
Stranger, you and I.”
The woodbine leaves littered the yard,
The woodbine berries were blue,
Autumn, yes, winter was in the wind;
“Stranger, I wish I knew.”

Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of her heart’s desire.
The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
and pinned with a silver pin.

The bridegroom thought it little to give
A dole of bread, a purse,
A heartfelt prayer for the poor of God,
Or for the rich a curse;
But whether or not a man was asked
To mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The bridegroom wished he knew.

Tea and Poetry

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For today’s Tea and Poetry post, I decided to combine three of the little tea facts from “365 Things Every Tea Lover Should Know” because they go together:

There are four major tea types–black, oolong, green, and white.
Black tea undergoes the longest process of oxidation.
White tea undergoes the least amount of the oxidation process

To add just a couple more facts that relate (that we learned at the Charleston Tea Plantation): 1) All four types of tea come from the same bush (what makes them different, is the amount of time they undergo the oxidation process); 2) Green tea does not require any oxidation.

Now, for today’s poem, I have chosen a poem by Anne Bradstreet:

THE AUTHOR TO HER BOOK

Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could:
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobbling than is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save homespun cloth i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ‘mongst vulgars may’st thou roam.
In critic’s hands beware thou dost not come,
And take thy way where yet thou art not known;
If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.

Tea and Poetry

/ kellyfbarr / 1 Comment

Today’s Tea Tidbit (from 365 Things Every Tea Lover Should Know):

In early eighteenth century Britain, tea was served in coffeehouses, which were restricted to men only. If women wanted tea from these locations, they had to have a man purchase the tea for them.

Today’s Poetry selection is one of my favorite fun poems by Jack Prelutsky:

We’re Four Ferocious Tigers

We’re four ferocious tigers,
at least, that’s what we seem,
our claws are at the ready,
our sharp incisors gleam,
we’re quite intimidating,
our start will make you blink,
our roar will make you shiver,
at least, that’s what we think.

We’re four ferocious tigers,
at least, that’s what we hear,
our ominous demeanor
will chill your atmosphere,
and yet you need not fear us,
don’t scream and run away,
we only eat spaghetti,
at least, that’s what we say.

Tea and Poetry

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Today’s Tea tidbit is a quote by Charles Dickens (from 365 Things Every Tea Lover Should Know):

“My dear, if you could give me a cup of tea to clear my muddle of a head I should               better understand your affairs.”

And today’s poem is by William Wordsworth:

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

I WANDERED lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once i saw a crowd,

A host of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

 

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way.

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance.

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

 

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed-and gazed-but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

 

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.