Red box for letters,
Red lights for stopping,
Red spades for digging,
Red balls for throwing.
Red boots for puddles,
Red kites for flying,
Red clouds at sunset,
Red fruit for picking.
Red eyes from crying,
Red knees from falling,
Red bows for tying,
Red shoes for dancing.
Red cheeks from running,
Red face from fibbing,
Red flames for warming,
Red hearts for loving.
(And “Red wine for Daddy!” says Lucy!)
Oh, what a lovely thing to see,
A magpie in a snowy tree!
Oh, what a lovely thing to smell,
Violets in a mossy dell!
Oh, what a lovely thing to hear,
The sound of church bells loud and clear!
Oh, what a lovely thing to say,
I love you more each passing day!
Believers in spells
We hardly speak of it,
And yet we know
Within your secret self
The baby grows
And daily lays his claim
To food and space, to air,
To life itself,
And to our life
Which until now we shared
In love and work
And peaceful happiness.
For these quiet years
When we like rivers flowed
Each into each,
Our separate streams to bind,
My thanks and love,
My joy and faithfulness.
And for this change
When we from two shall grow
Into a third,
And found its infant life
On work and faith,
Be you my heart
And daily comforter,
As I’ll your strength
And constant husband be.
30 July 1969
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
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