Poem Project – entry #16 Little Things
Little Things by Julia A. Carney Little drops of water,
Little grains of sand,
Make the mighty ocean
And the beauteous land. And the little moments,
Humble though they be,
Make the mighty ages
Of eternity. So our little errors
Lead the soul away,
From the paths of virtue
Into sin to stray. Little deeds of kindness,
Little words of love,
Make our earth an Eden,
Like the heaven above.
I found this poem in a large anthology of poetry for children – but the poem was lacking its last 2 verses. I used those two verses in my students’ portfolios this year, on the pages that include photos and work across the year. Maestra even translated the them into Spanish including a bit of rhyme.
I went to the internet to find out about the author and to see if she had written other poems. Granted – some of this information comes from Wikipedia – but the story of this poem is more interesting than the poem itself. The author was the wife of a Universalist minister and wrote this poem which some say ended up being put into the front pages of children’s composition books for a time. It is also a poem that was attributed to another author – male – for many years. It seems to be the only notable poem Ms. Carney wrote; I think it is rather sweet and can see why it was used with children.
Having recently visited the Longbeach peninsula, I wanted to do something with beachy fabric, or a seashore theme. I also remembered doing Cathedral Windows squares when I was in high school and thought I’d mess around with the pattern again. Usually this block is made and a contrast fabric is put into the “windows.” I made the squares and then couldn’t really figure out what I was trying to do – did I want to put a contrast in or not. Then the idea of putting the agates in sort of popped into my head. I gathered these hundreds of tiny agates 2 years ago on the Oregon coast. They’ve been sitting in a large bowl on a window sill since and I occasionally paw through them. I have wonderful memories of the time spent with my midwest sister, the one I don’t see very often, our butts either up in the air or plunked in the sand skimming for these tiny glints of rock. I kind of like the way tucking them in openings in the quilt square makes them seem to be bursting out of the fabric.