The Lovers’ Almanac 17 December – The Day We Met – verse by John Greenleaf Whittier – art by Paul César Helleu

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  How has the day you met someone special touched your life?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac

Dear Muse, 

I have played the SOD over and over and over today.

yes, thinkin’ about
the day we met,
always a good way
to git things flowin’
i wish i could remember
if wish i could forget
we were invincible
why did we not stay
why was it not enough
why is it never enough

the day we met
the day we fell

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

The Day We Met

The day we met
Stands apart
From all the days
In my memories

To say that I am
Changed by that day
Is to not say
Near enough

Before that day
My way had been lost
More importantly
My words had been lost

After that day, after darkness
My words began to flow again
At times I was so engrossed in you
I knew not what else existed
You became my greatest pleasure
We touched and two became one

When I think of the path I took
To get to that day, to get to you
I am left in wonder at how
We managed to meet that day
Was it fate or luck or magic or what
Whatever it was it matters not

What matters is this
I have loved you
From that day
To this day

© copyright 2012 mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The Song of the Day is “The Day We Met” by Vermillion Lies

John Greenleaf Whittier
John Greenleaf Whittier BPL ambrotype, c1840-60-crop.jpg

Today is the birthday of John Greenleaf Whittier (Haverhill, Massachusetts; December 17, 1807 – September 7, 1892 Hampton Falls, New Hampshire); American Quaker poet and advocate of the abolition of slavery in the United States.  Frequently listed as one of the Fireside Poets, he was influenced by the Scottish poet Robert Burns.  Whittier is remembered particularly for his anti-slavery writings as well as his book Snow-Bound.


  • Better heresy of doctrine than heresy of heart.
    • Mary Garvin
  • Tradition wears a snowy beard, romance is always young.
    • Mary Garvin
  • The Night is Mother of the Day,
    The Winter of the Spring,
    And ever upon old Decay
    The greenest mosses cling.
  • A Dream of Summer,
  • Beauty seen is never lost.
    • Sunset on the Bearcamp

The Beauty which old Greece or Rome
Sung, painted, wrought, lies close at home.

  • To ———
  • Low stir of leaves and dip of oars
    And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
  • Snow Bound
  • All hearts confess the saints elect,
    Who, twain in faith, in love agree,
    And melt not in an acid sect
    The Christian pearl of charity!
  • Snow Bound
  • Life is ever lord of Death
    And Love can never lose its own.
  • Snow Bound


Vilhelm Petersen
Vilhelm Petersen 1812-1880 by H.L. Galster.jpg

Today is the birthday of Vilhelm Peter Carl Petersen (17 December 1812, Copenhagen – 25 July 1880, Copenhagen); Danish landscape painter.


Paul César Helleu
Paul César Helleu.jpg

Today is the birthday of Paul César Helleu (Vannes, Brittany 17 December 1859 – 23 March 1927 Paris); French oil painter, pastel artist, drypoint etcher, and designer, best known for his numerous portraits of beautiful society women of the Belle Époque.  He also conceived the ceiling mural of night sky constellations for Grand Central Terminal in New York City.


Portrait d’Alice Guérin, Helleu’s future wife

Helleu was commissioned in 1884 to paint a portrait of a young woman named Alice Guérin (1870–1933).  They fell in love, and married two years later, on 28 July 1886.  Throughout their lives together, she was his favourite model.  Charming, refined and graceful, she helped introduce them to the aristocratic circles of Paris, where they were popular fixtures.

Paul Helleu Sketching with His Wife (1889), by John Singer Sargent, The Brooklyn Museum, New York 

Mac Tag

Perhaps the greatest reading pleasure has an element of self-annihilation. To be so engrossed that you barely know you exist.

Ian McEwan

Tell me,

Is it your message, stars, that when death comes

My soul shall touch with his, and the two flames

Be one?

W. B. Yeats

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