For the last few days I have been walking around with the words to a Robert Frost poem in my head.
The poem begins this way:
“Oh, stormy stormy world,
The days you were not swirled
Around with mist and cloud . . .”
I’ve memorized the whole of the poem so that I can say the words as a blessing at a celebration I’m attending later in the week.
The title alone strikes me as a blessing:
“Happiness Makes Up in Height for What it Lacks in Length.”
And it does do that, doesn’t it?
Happiness is a tall, tall thing.
That, I suppose, is the thing most worth memorizing.

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