My grandmother was a beautiful woman in heart and soul, body and mind. She had a remarkable ability to recognize and identify with the allure of her world. Where some of us saw mountains, she saw strength reflected in the sky. Where we saw desert, she saw elegance illuminated in the sand. She could not keep this beauty to herself. She wanted everyone to see the hidden world that so freely revealed itself to her, and through her paintings she has left us a legacy of its beauty. In the way that we knew her, Elizabeth Gardner is no longer here. She survives in the mountains and deserts, and in the ocean, in the sea. She survives in the overwhelming and subtle beauty of the world, a beauty that she spent her entire life sharing and creating. She has returned to the land that she celebrated, one gentle stroke at a time. She has gone down to the sea. My grandmother loved poetry, in particular a poem by John Masefield. It is as beautiful as she was, and, in remembrance of her, I would like to share its beauty with you and then close with a prayer.
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over
May God grant a beautiful woman her tall ship and her stars, her windy days and her white clouds, her quiet sleep and her sweet dreams. Amen.
My grandmother was a beautiful woman in heart and soul, body and mind. She had a remarkable ability to recognize and identify with the allure of her world. Where some of us saw mountains, she saw strength reflected in the sky. Where we saw desert, she saw elegance illuminated in the sand. She could not keep this beauty to herself. She wanted everyone to see the hidden world that so freely revealed itself to her, and through her paintings she has left us a legacy of its beauty. In the way that we knew her, Elizabeth Gardner is no longer here. She survives in the mountains and deserts, and in the ocean, in the sea. She survives in the overwhelming and subtle beauty of the world, a beauty that she spent her entire life sharing and creating. She has returned to the land that she celebrated, one gentle stroke at a time. She has gone down to the sea. My grandmother loved poetry, in particular a poem by John Masefield. It is as beautiful as she was, and, in remembrance of her, I would like to share its beauty with you and then close with a prayer.
I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn breaking.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea gulls crying.
I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over
May God grant a beautiful woman her tall ship and her stars, her windy days and her white clouds, her quiet sleep and her sweet dreams. Amen.