O water, voice of my heart, crying in the sand,
All night long crying with a mournful cry,
As I lie and listen, and cannot understand
The voice of my heart in my side or the voice of the sea,
O water, crying for rest, is it I, is it I?
All night long the water is crying to me.
Unresting water, there shall never be rest
Till the last moon droop and the last tide fail,
And the fire of the end begin to burn in the west;
And the heart shall be weary and wonder and cry like the sea,
All life long crying without avail,
As the water all night long is crying to me.
- Arthur Symons
Arthur Symons
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Poem o' the Week: The Turtle Dove ( English Folk Song)
The Turtle Dove
Fare you well, my dear, I must be gone,
And leave you for a while;
If I roam away I'll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
So fair thou art, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I;
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till the stars fall from the sky, my dear,
Till the stars fall from the sky.
The sea will never run dry, my dear,
Nor the rocks melt with the sun,
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till all these things be done, my dear,
Till all these things be done.
O yonder doth sit that little turtle dove,
He doth sit on yonder high tree,
A-making a moan for the loss of his love,
As I will do for thee, my dear,
As I will do for thee.
Bryn Terfel Sings "The Turtle Dove", Arr. R Vaugh Williams
This is from the Last Night of The Proms. I wish the some of the Proms, especially the Last Night were broadcast in the USA.
Fare you well, my dear, I must be gone,
And leave you for a while;
If I roam away I'll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
So fair thou art, my bonny lass,
So deep in love am I;
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till the stars fall from the sky, my dear,
Till the stars fall from the sky.
The sea will never run dry, my dear,
Nor the rocks melt with the sun,
But I never will prove false to the bonny lass I love,
Till all these things be done, my dear,
Till all these things be done.
O yonder doth sit that little turtle dove,
He doth sit on yonder high tree,
A-making a moan for the loss of his love,
As I will do for thee, my dear,
As I will do for thee.
Bryn Terfel Sings "The Turtle Dove", Arr. R Vaugh Williams
This is from the Last Night of The Proms. I wish the some of the Proms, especially the Last Night were broadcast in the USA.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Poem o' the Week: Silent Noon by D.G. Rossetti
Silent Noon
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882)
YOUR hands lie open in the long, fresh grass,—
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
’Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge.
’Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky,—
So this wing’d hour is dropped to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
Ian Bostridge Sings "Silent Noon" Comp. Ralph Vaugh Williams
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828–1882)
YOUR hands lie open in the long, fresh grass,—
The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:
Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms
’Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.
All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,
Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge
Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn hedge.
’Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky,—
So this wing’d hour is dropped to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
Ian Bostridge Sings "Silent Noon" Comp. Ralph Vaugh Williams
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Arnold Friberg's Famous RCMP Paintings
Arnold Freiberg did a series of paintings for the Northwest Paper company calendars for the printing trade that was very popular. The paper company wanted to prove the quality of their paper and its ability to hold gorgeous colors so the company chose the subject of the mounties in their iconic red jackets and the beautiful landscapes of the Canadian wilderness. (Surely one of the great marketing moves of all time.)
Spring Time in The North
"Maintaining the Right"
This painting was commissioned by the RCMP.
Just for fun, let's not forget Nelson Eddy, the best singing Mountie!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Poem o' the Week
Plaint
DARK, deep, and cold the current flows
Unto the sea where no wind blows,
Seeking the land which no one knows.
O'er its sad gloom still comes and goes
The mingled wail of friends and foes,
Borne to the land which no one knows.
Why shrieks for help yon wretch, who goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Unto the land which no one knows?
Though myriads go with him who goes,
Alone he goes where no wind blows,
Unto the land which no one knows.
For all must go where no wind blows,
And none can go for him who goes;
None, none return whence no one knows.
Yet why should he who shrieking goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Reunion seek with it or those?
Alone with God, where no wind blows,
And Death, his shadow—doom'd, he goes.
That God is there the shadow shows.
O shoreless Deep, where no wind blows!
And thou, O Land which no one knows!
That God is All, His shadow shows.
-Ebenezer Elliott. 1781–1849
DARK, deep, and cold the current flows
Unto the sea where no wind blows,
Seeking the land which no one knows.
O'er its sad gloom still comes and goes
The mingled wail of friends and foes,
Borne to the land which no one knows.
Why shrieks for help yon wretch, who goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Unto the land which no one knows?
Though myriads go with him who goes,
Alone he goes where no wind blows,
Unto the land which no one knows.
For all must go where no wind blows,
And none can go for him who goes;
None, none return whence no one knows.
Yet why should he who shrieking goes
With millions, from a world of woes,
Reunion seek with it or those?
Alone with God, where no wind blows,
And Death, his shadow—doom'd, he goes.
That God is there the shadow shows.
O shoreless Deep, where no wind blows!
And thou, O Land which no one knows!
That God is All, His shadow shows.
-Ebenezer Elliott. 1781–1849
Friday, October 9, 2009
Black Bart - Jersey Giant Chicken
Black Bart is the young rooster. He's almost three months old and supposedly could weigh 12 pounds when mature. I feed him enough nutritious food - he'd better get huge. 
The problem is that General Patton is so agressive we fear for Black Bart's well being. They are always separated. Should General Patton become a Sunday dinner with dumplings?
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