For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it - Ivan Panin
Monday, November 29, 2010
Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly tree, The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild rose-briar is sweet in the spring, Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again And who will call the wild briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now And deck thee with the holly’s sheen, That when December blights thy brow He may still leave thy garland green. (Emily Bronte)
The Campsie Fells lay dreaming in the soft sweet summer light, Little breezes played and whispered round her knees, She dreamed of days we knew not when the waters lapped her feet And the glaciers slithered steeply from her sides - Days when mammoths roamed the valley through the sand dunes weird and high, And our coal was mosses, ferns and tropic trees.
The long low line of hills was swept by western winds, And the bracken’s green was long since turned to brown, Her dreams were sore and troubled, for she heard the tramp of feet As the Romans marched to Cadder o’er the down; Till they pitched their tents and sheltered from the winter’s wildest wrath, And beneath her flanks they built for them a town.
All these days are long since over, long ago and far away, Changeless still the Campsies lie in summer sheen; We discover Roman forts and we dig up mammoth bones In our age of petrol, aeroplanes and steam; And we build our little houses and we live our little lives, But the great hills hug their secrets still - and dream.
[The Campsie Fells lie to the north of Kirkintilloch where the late Mrs Scott lived for many years.]
Because of increased interest being shown in my Pre-Raphaelite site - http://myownselection.blogspot.com - I’m planning a second series. Beginning on Tuesday 23rd November, I’ll be adding a painting to the collection every day.
My other blogs will continue - Eighty Plus on Thursdays, A Touch of Culture on Fridays, John’s Quiet Corner on Mondays, and Wise Men Say daily.
An old Cherokee was telling his grandson of the battle that goes on inside everyone - a battle between two wolves.
“One of them is Evil,” he said, “full of anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, false pride and superiority.”
“And the other?” asked the boy.
“He is Good,” the old man replied, “full of joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth and compassion.”
The boy thought for a moment and then spoke. “Who will win?”
Now winter nights enlarge The number of their hours, And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers.
Let now the chimneys blaze, And cups o'erflow with wine; Let well-tuned words amaze With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights Shall wait on honey love, While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights Sleep's leaden spells remove.
This time doth well dispense With lovers' long discourse; Much speech hath some defence, Though beauty no remorse.
All do not all things well; Some measures comely tread, Some knotted riddles tell, Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys And winter his delights; Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, They shorten tedious nights. (Thomas Campion 1567-1620)
This painting “The New Bonnet” is the work of the American artist Francis William Edmonds 1806-1863. The girl is obviously proud of her purchase, but her little sister looks worried. Is that the bill for the bonnet the father is frowning over?
Every winter When the great sun has turned his face away, The earth goes down into a vale of grief, And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables, Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay - The leaps in spring to his returning kisses. (Charles Kingsley)
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire; it is the time for home. (Edith Sitwell)
There is a spot ‘mid barren hills, Where winter howls, and driving rain; But, if the dreary tempest chills, There is a light that warms again.
The house is old, the trees are bare, Moonless above bends twilight’s dome; But what on earth is half so dear - So longed for - as the hearth of home?
The mute bird sitting on the stone, The dank moss dripping from the wall, The thorn-trees gaunt, the walks o’ergrown, I love them - how I love them all!
A little and a lone green lane That opened on a common wide; A distant, dreamy, dim blue chain Of mountains, circling every side.
A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dream-like charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere. (Emily Bronte)
This video has been made available on YouTube by Masami Takeuchi who is featured playing the Londonderry Air. The theremin, an electronic instrument, was invented by Leon Theremin who patented it in 1928. The sound it produces is heard regularly on television, for it’s a theremin which plays the theme tune of “Midsomer Murders.”
Monday, November 1, 2010
taking a short cut
the squirrel hurries home
on the telephone wire
cold November day
little bushytail still appears
at the bird-feeder
No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day -
No sky - no earthly view -
No distance looking blue -
No road - no street - no “t’other side the way” -
No end to any Row -
No indications where the Crescents go -
No top to any steeple -
No recognitions of familiar people -
No courtesies for showing ‘em -
No knowing ‘em! -
No travelling at all - no locomotion,
No inkling of the way - no notion -
No go; - by land or ocean -
No mail - no post -
No news from any foreign coast -
No Park - no Ring - no afternoon gentility -
No company - no nobility -
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds -
November!
If that poem has made you a bit depressed, this will cheer you up.
A mail order company called Solutions from Renwoods is offering a Christmas wall-clock that plays a festive tune every hour! Favourites include Silent Night and Santa Claus is coming to Town!! And all for £12.95 plus postage and packing!!! Wow!!!!
