To the Rainbow by Joanne Baillie

I was Googling something or other a little while ago and I saw the Google doodle for the person being honored today and wondered who she was. So I clicked on it and was really inspired by what I learned. Her name is Joanna Baillie and today marks her 256th birthday. She is a renowned Scottish poet and playwright who was a descendant of famous Scottish war hero Sir William Wallace and was who's literary achievements led to her being hailed as the "female William Shakespeare". I needed to make a post for tomorrow and was moved to share a bit of what I learned about her as well as one of her poems as my post for this week. Here is a bit about her:

• She was contemporaries with and hosted the likes of such literary greats as Lord and Lady Byron
• Her first poem was titled Winter Day
• She was a philanthropist, donating half of her substantial earnings from her literary career to charity
• She lived most her life with her sister, Agnes
• She never married but it is said that she had many a gentleman caller and interest
• She is hailed as one of the greatest female poets of all time

The title of her poem To The Rainbow caught my attention. The rainbow holds very special significance for me since my Mamma passed away. She sends me rainbows as symbols she is around, most of which have been when it is extremely clear that it is from her and cannot be written off as mere coincidence. The picture of the rainbow above is out in St. James Parrish, where her family is from. I saw it when I was out there one day was with a cousin of hers. The title To the Rainbow called to mind the beautiful oracle deck by Inna Segal, The Secret Language of Color. The deck is a wonderful, each card displaying the beauty of a particular color or hue and explain how to work with its energetic vibration for physical and/or emotional healing. As we all know, the rainbow is such a wonderful symbol of healing, hope, joy, and encouragement.

 I am only just now realizing today is September 11th.

To The Rainbow

TRIUMPHANT arch! that fill'st the sky
   When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud philosophy
   To teach me what thou art:—

Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,
   A midway station given,
For happy spirits to alight
   Betwixt the earth and heaven.

Can all that optics teach unfold
   Thy form to please me so,
As when I dreamt of gems and gold
   Hid in thy radiant bow?

When science from creation's face
   Enchantment's veil withdraws,
What lovely visions yield their place
   To cold material laws!

And yet, fair bow! no fabling dreams,
   But words of the Most High,
Have told why first thy robe of beams
   Was woven in the sky.

When o'er the green undeluged earth
   Heaven's covenant thou did'st shine,
How came the world's grey fathers forth
   To watch thy sacred sign!

And when its yellow lustre smil'd
   O'er mountains yet untrod,
Each mother held aloft her child
   To bless the bow of God.

Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,
   The first-made anthem rang,
On earth deliver'd from the deep,
   And the first poet sang.

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
   Unraptur'd greet thy beam:
Theme of primeval prophecy!
   Be still the poet's theme.

The earth to thee its incense yields,
   The lark thy welcome sings,
When glitt'ring in the freshen'd fields
   The snowy mushroom springs.

How glorious is thy girdle cast
   O'er mountain, tower, and town;
Or mirror'd in the ocean vast,
   A thousand fathoms down!

As fresh in yon horizon dark,
   As young thy beauties seem,
As when the eagle from the ark
   First sported in thy beam.

For faithful to its sacred page,
   Heaven still rebuilds thy span;
Nor lets the type grow pale with age,
   That first spoke peace to man.