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  • Friday Favorites: Cædmon’s Hymn
  •  A POEM A DAY 220
  • WORDS OF WISDOM #67
  • A POEM A DAY 219
  • Friday Favorites: Youth
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  • Friday Favorites: Cædmon’s Hymn

    Friday Favorites: Cædmon’s Hymn

    February 27, 2026
    -by Cædmon
    Nu sculon herigean
    Now we must praise

    heofonrices weard
    heaven-kingdom’s Guardian,

    meotodes meahte
    the Measurer’s might

    and his modgeþanc
    and his mind-plans,

    weorc wuldor-fæder
    the work of the Glory-Father,

    swa he wundra gehwæs
    when he of wonders of every one,

    ece drihten
    eternal Lord,

    or onstealde
    the beginning established.

    He ærest sceop
    He first created

    ielda bearnum
    for men’s sons

    heofon to hrofe
    heaven as a roof,

    halig scyppend
    holy Creator;

    ða middangeard
    then middle-earth

    moncynnes Weard
    mankind’s Guardian,

    ece drihten
    eternal Lord,

    æfter teode
    afterwards made—

    firum foldan
    for men earth,

    frea ælmihtig
    Master almighty.

    Cædmon’s Hymn is considered the earliest surviving poem written in Old English and serves as a foundational text in English literary history. The poem is a hymn of praise that honors God as the eternal Creator, emphasizing divine power, wisdom, and intentional design in the creation of heaven, earth, and humankind. Through a series of reverential titles and parallel phrases, the speaker calls on listeners to recognize God’s authority and the ordered beauty of the created world (Ferguson et al., 2018, p. 1).

    The poem reflects the oral traditions of early Germanic verse, employing strong alliteration, rhythmic half-lines, and formulaic expressions to reinforce its devotional purpose. Although Christian in theme, Cædmon’s Hymn retains the stylistic features of pre-Christian Anglo-Saxon poetry, illustrating how early English poets adapted traditional forms to express new religious ideas. Preserved through later manuscript copies, the hymn represents both a literary and cultural transition from oral performance to written record (Ferguson et al., 2018, p. 1).

    Reference: Ferguson, M., Salter, M. J., & Stallworthy, J. (Eds.). (2018). The Norton anthology of poetry (6th ed., p. 1). W. W. Norton & Company.

    Cædmon’s Hymn sounds familiar because its steady rhythm and alliteration echo patterns still used in English poetry, making it feel musical and intentional to the ear. At the same time, it sounds foreign due to its Old English pronunciation and unfamiliar phonetics, which create a distance that reminds listeners they are hearing an earlier stage of the language.

    Have a listen:

    Photo by Danika Perkinson on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  •  A POEM A DAY 220

     A POEM A DAY 220

    February 25, 2026
    Hear Me?
    God, can you hear me?
    Are you counting my tears,
    do you know my heart—
    the weight it carries in silence?
    Can you feel my fears
    when sorrow settles heavy,
    when I am weary, my soul
    tattered and torn?
    Do you hear my cry
    when words abandon me,
    when the depths of my distress
    have no name?
    I reach for you
    on unbended knees,
    offering what I cannot say—
    my unspoken words.
    God,
    in this quiet,
    can you hear me?

    Simona A. Brinson

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  • WORDS OF WISDOM #67

    February 24, 2026

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  • A POEM A DAY 219

    February 23, 2026

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  • Friday Favorites: Youth

    Friday Favorites: Youth

    February 20, 2026
    ~by Samuel Ullman
    Youth is not a time of life—it is a state of mind.  
    It is not a matter of red cheeks, red lips and supple knees.
    It is a temper of the will; a quality of the imagination; a vigor of the emotions;
    it is a freshness of the deep springs of life.

    Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity,
    of the appetite for adventure over a life of ease.
    This often exists in a man of fifty, more than in a boy of twenty.
    Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years;
    people grow old by deserting their ideals.

    Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
    Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair—
    these are the long, long years that bow the head
    and turn the growing spirit back to dust.

    Whether seventy or sixteen, there is in every being’s heart a love of wonder;
    the sweet amazement at the stars and starlike things and thoughts;
    the undaunted challenge of events,
    the unfailing childlike appetite for what comes next,
    and the joy in the game of life.

    You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt;
    as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear,
    as young as your hope, as old as your despair.

    In the central place of your heart there is a wireless station.
    So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, grandeur, courage,
    and power from the earth, from men and from the Infinite—so long are you young.
    When the wires are all down and the central places of your heart are covered with the
    snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism,
    then are you grown old, indeed!

    This piece is most commonly attributed to Samuel Ullman.

    It comes from his prose poem Youth, written in the early 20th century. Although Ullman was not widely known during his lifetime, this text gained lasting recognition later, particularly after it was popularized by Douglas MacArthur, who admired it deeply and reportedly kept a copy in his office.

    So while the passage is often mistaken for a speech, a motivational essay, or even a biblical or philosophical text, it is in fact a prose poem by Samuel Ullman, centered on youth as a state of mind rather than a measure of age.

    Photo by Leroy Skalstad on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • A POEM A DAY 218

    February 18, 2026
    A Word

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  • WORDS OF WISDOM #66

    February 17, 2026

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  • A POEM A DAY 216

    February 16, 2026

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  • Friday Favorites: Why Do I Love You?

    Friday Favorites: Why Do I Love You?

    February 13, 2026
    ~by Roy Croft
    I love you,
    Not only for what you are,
    But for what I am
    When I am with you.

    I love you
    Not only for what
    You have made of yourself,
    But for what
    You are making of me.

    I love you
    For ignoring the possibilities
    Of the fool in me
    And for laying firm hold
    Of the possibilities for good.

    Why do I love you?

    I love you
    For closing your eyes
    To the discords ---
    And for adding to the music in me
    By worshipful listening.

    I love you because you
    Are helping me to make
    Of the lumber of my life
    Not a tavern
    But a temple;
    And out of the words
    Of my every day
    Not a reproach
    But a song.

    I love you
    Because you have done
    More than any creed
    To make me happy.

    You have done it
    Without a word,
    Without a touch,
    Without a sign.
    You have done it
    Just by being yourself.

    After all
    Perhaps that is what
    Love means.

    Knowing why you love someone matters because love without awareness can easily drift into habit, dependency, or projection. When we cannot name the reasons for our love, we risk loving an idea rather than a person—loving what someone provides instead of who they are. The poem insists that love is not rooted in usefulness, improvement, or effort, but in recognition: loving someone “not for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you,” and for who they remain even when they do nothing at all. Understanding why we love clarifies our values and keeps love honest. It separates genuine connection from obligation and helps ensure that affection is freely chosen rather than unconsciously assumed.

    Expressing that love, especially when it is grounded in such understanding, gives the beloved something essential: being seen. To articulate love is to offer reassurance that their existence alone is enough—that they do not need to perform, fix, or earn their place. The poem shows how, when spoken, love becomes a mirror in which the other can recognize their own worth. This expression steadies relationships; it creates a sense of emotional safety and trust. When someone hears why they are loved, love becomes less fragile and less conditional. It transforms from a feeling into a presence—one that affirms, anchors, and allows both people to remain fully themselves.

    Simona A. Brinson

    Photo by Shaira Dela Peña on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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  •  A POEM A DAY 215

     A POEM A DAY 215

    February 11, 2026
    The Wind Remembers
    The wind remembers the day you were born—
    your first breath,
    the first tear you cried,
    your first heartbreak,
    your first love,
    your first skinned knee.

    It remembers how you learned to stand
    by falling,
    how laughter arrived before language,
    how grief taught your name its weight.

    It followed you through open windows,
    waited in the hush before goodbyes,
    pressed its palm against your back
    when you thought you were alone.

    When you forgot who you were,
    it did not.
    It kept the map of you
    in its restless hands—

    and when you are tired,
    when you think nothing has lasted,
    the wind will pass your face softly,
    as if to say:
    I was there.

    Simona A. Brinson

    Photo by Saad Chaudhry on Unsplash

    ©mylifeinword.com All rights reserved.

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