The frame of photos and poetry that you see above was Arlyn's birthday present this year. I had found a poem by Charles Swinburne (a nineteenth-century British poet) that highlights the feet, hands, and eyes of babies, and I thought it would be neat to pair it with photos of those parts of Kelyn. And, since I have some very talented friends, I figured I just might be able to pull it off. To make this present for him, Kelyn and I went on a couple of top-secret missions: the first to meet with Micah for a photo shoot, and the second to meet with Laura for a calligraphy consultation. These artists did an amazing job, and both Arlyn and I think the final product is just stunningly beautiful (and so meaningful for us to have). I'll post a couple of closer photos of Laura's calligraphy below, and then I'll post Micah's photos of Kelyn with the corresponding lines of poetry.
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A baby's feet, like sea-shells pink,
Might tempt, should Heaven see meet, An angel’s lips to kiss, we think, A baby’s feet. Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat They stretch and spread and wink Their ten soft buds that part and meet. No flower-bells that expand and shrink Gleam half so heavenly sweet As shine on life’s untrodden brink A baby’s feet. |
A baby’s hands, like rosebuds furl’d,
Whence yet no leaf expands, Ope if you touch, though close upcurl’d, A baby’s hands. Then, even as warriors grip their brands When battle’s bolt is hurl’d, They close, clench’d hard like tightening bands. No rosebuds yet by dawn impearl’d Match, even in loveliest lands, The sweetest flowers in all the world— A baby’s hands. |
A baby’s eyes, ere speech begin,
Ere lips learn words or sighs, Bless all things bright enough to win A baby’s eyes. Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies, And sleep flows out and in, Lies perfect in them Paradise. Their glance might cast out pain and sin, Their speech make dumb the wise, By mute glad godhead felt within A baby’s eyes. --Étude Réaliste, Algernon Charles Swinburne |
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