#mary newmarch prescott

[violettesiren]

The earth is turning brown, dear, The earth is turning brown; The birds, full-grown, have already flown, And the leaves are whirling down. There's no green grass in the lane, child, There are no red berries in the wood; The world is no longer at Spring, child, It has chosen another mood.

Yet think you Nature loves not as well Her season of dumb repose? Think you she misses the bluebird's swell, The robin's trill, the thrush's thrill, Or even the fragrant rose? I trow she knows that the drifting snows Are good for the dreaming flowers; That Spring doth borrow a hint from the sorrow Of these bare, brown Autumn hours.

Turning Brown by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[jacki24x7-d-f-casting-blog-1]

Part 2 

Historia Jackson played by Bea Miller

Flora Richards played by Johnny Sequoyah

Mari Molina played by Brianne Tju

Kyla Falsworth played by Jenna Ortega

Marnie played by Ava Allan

Matilda ‘Tilly’ Tolliver played by Jade Pettyjohn

Hamish Littman played by Markian Tarasiuk

Jessie Prescott played by Josephine Langford

Wren Newmarch played by Alyssa Lynch

Stephanie Rispoli played by Belle Shouse

[violettesiren]

Cherry trees begin to blow, The crocus blossomed long ago; But the rose it lingers yet, With its buds already set. Rose, will you blossom soon, or no?

Lilacs all their purple show, Leaves unfold, and grow and grow; But the rose it stays behind, Waiting till the winds are kind. Rose, will you blossom soon, or no?

Violets flutter to and fro In the greening woods, I know; Yet a little, little longer Dreams the rose, till suns grow stronger: How long does it take a rose to grow?

Unrest by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

The corn is in tassel, the grass is high, Morning and evening echo with praise, Robins whistle and thrushes reply, Making the most of these holidays.

The silver birches are laughing out, An emerald plume lifts the sculptured fern, While thistle-blossoms begin to pout, And the wild red roses begin to burn.

Here they come trooping, now, one and all, Larkspur, and bluebell and gay marigold— Had they been waiting the fairy's call To spring from the dusk of the mould?

Look- the brown sparrow longs not to flutter With wings like the pansy's purple best, Nor the velvet pansy yearns to utter What the sparrow croons over her nest.

Steeped in the happy summer weather, Each content with its fortunate dower, Life is enough, no matter whether One be a girl, a bird, or a flower!

Summer Weather by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

Summer is here in all her glory Of waving grasses and fragrant shoot, Spelling her swift and beautiful story With scarlet lily, with wayside fruit.

Down in green hollows of woody places The sunbeams beckon the orchid out, White thorn blossoms unveil their faces, Swelling pods are beginning to pout.

Breezes blow from the gardens of spices, Bees make murmuring long delays, The musical laugh of the brook entices Lover and lover to follow her ways.

Stay, dear morning, nor yet bereave us! Why need your blossoms grow sad and sere? Linger a little or e'er you leave us, Since you come only once a year!

Stay, where the boughs of the bending beeches Shadow the stream in a single spot, And gild me forever these azure reaches, Reaches of wild forget-me-not!

Once A Year by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

Oh, hasten, year, to bring us June, Folded within your dreaming heart Like petals of a rose, that soon The wooing winds will kiss apart.

Hasten, O sun, across the sky, Nor make, I pray, a long delay; Let the sweet bloom of daylight die, And twilight stars forbid to stay;

Till wreathed in blossoms morn appears, Wasting her fragrance everywhere, And echoes of the chiming spheres Seem pulsing on the summer air.

Oh, Hasten, Year! by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

What so sweet as summer, When the sky is blue, And the sunbeams' arrows Pierce the green earth through?

What so sweet as birds are, Putting into trills The perfume of the wild rose, The murmur of the rills?

What so sweet as flowers, Clovers white and red, Where the brown bee chemist Finds its daily bread?

What so sweet as sun showers, When the big cloud passes, And the fairy rainbow Seems to touch the grasses?

What so sweet as winds are, Blowing from the woods, Hinting in their music Of dreamy solitudes?

Rain, and song, and flower, When the summer's shine Make the green earth's beauty Seem a thing divine.

Ecstasy by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

Let us make a necklace of the lilac flower— The sun will not be setting yet for full an hour; All that lilacs know of songs and stars and showers Shall be surely threaded on this chain of ours. Beads of white and purple—rose and amethyst— Rains have dripped upon them, happy winds have kissed; Slipping through our fingers on this silken string, Shan't we catch the magic of the early spring? Catch the bluebird's whistle and the robin's cheer, Catch the trick of blooming with the blooming year, Catch the frolic spirit of the winds that bring Over miles of country hints of blossoming? Amber may be fragrant, so is sandal-wood, But I wouldn't change them, even if I could: Ah me! am I dreaming? Twenty years have passed Since I strung a necklace of the lilacs last!

Lilac Chains by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

Glancing new moon, white new moon, What do you bring in your horn? Silver light to paint black night As fair as the early morn? Shining new moon, sweet new moon, Where did you harvest your rays? In the deeps of dark were you never a spark Till the sun shone along your ways? Sinking new moon, kind new moon, Will my wish come true some day, When you're but a ghost of yourself, at the most, And your glory passes away?

The New Wish by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

In the dark, in the dew,

I am smiling back to you;

But you cannot see the smile,

And you’re thinking all the while

How I turn my face from you

In the dark, in the dew.

In the dark, in the dew,

All my love goes out to you,

Flutters like a bird in pain,

Dies and comes to life again;

While you whisper, “Sweetest, hark:

Some one’s sighing in the dark,

In the dark, in the dew!”

 In the dark, in the dew,

All my heart cries out to you,

As I cast it at your feet,

Sweet indeed, but not too sweet;

Wondering will you hear it beat,

Beat for you, and bleed for you,

In the dark, in the dew!

In the Dark, in the Dew by Mary Newmarch Prescott

[violettesiren]

Lilies opening without warning, Lilies blown this blessed morning, Scented with the wild night dew, Drenched with sunshine, through and through;— Dreams of places where they grow, Nestle in their hearts, I know. Silent-pools, along whose edges, Droop the flag flowers, bend the sedges, Dear companions of their pleasure, Anchored in eternal leisure,— Pools, where stars look down and smile On my lilies, mile on mile. There, the echoes haunt the rushes,— Ghosts of sound, misleading thrushes, With a hundred mellow gushes;— There, the pink azalea flushes,— In their hearts my lilies keep, All these memories, safe asleep.

Water Lilies by Mary Newmarch Prescott