My Symphony by William Henry Channing

Lily came home today with Homework. Her assignment was to pick out a book at home that she liked and take it to school to read to some kindergarten children. I have quite a few children’s books, but because I didn't read much to Lily as a baby, she couldn't pick which one was her favorite.

As we thumbed through the bookshelf I came across a lovely book illustrated by Mary Engelbreit. M. E. is my mothers favorite artist. "Lily, Grandma gave you this book when you were born. I used to read this one to you."  Lily looked at the book, read the inscription, and said  "Mom, this isn't my book."  "What!" I said.  I grabbed the book from her and this is what the inscription read:

To Barbra,
I love you so very much. As you read this book, let it be your symphony to share with your children.
Love, Mom Dec. 1998

This was a timely find. The other day I told my mother that she had never written anything nice to me, I guess I was wrong.

Here is the poem:

To live content with small means;

To seek elegance rather than luxury,

and refinement rather than fashion;

To be worthy, not respectable;

and wealthy, not rich;

To study hard,

Think quietly,

Talk gently,

Act frankly;

To listen to stars and birds,

To babes and sages, with an open heart,

To bear all cheerfully,

Do all bravely,

Await occasions,

Hurry never.

...To let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious,

Grow up through the common.

This is to be my symphony.

Thanks Mom, I love you.