Tonight the west o'er-brims with warmest dyes,
Its chalice overflows
With pools of purple colouring the skies,
Aflood with gold and rose. (E. Pauline Johnson)

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The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another’s being mingle -
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain’d its brother:

And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me? (Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822)

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The music is the well-known  Liebestraum.



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The Mandolin Player by Edouard Bisson 1856-?

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Two poems by Ben Jonson 1572-1637

Have you seen but a bright lily grow
Before the rude hands have touched it?
Have you marked but the fall of the snow
Before the soil hath smutched it?
Have you felt the wool of beaver,
Or swan’s down ever?
Or have smelt the bud of the briar,
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she!

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Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss within the cup,
And I'll not ask for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Not so much honouring thee,
As giving it a hope that there
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe
And send'st it back to me:
Since when it grows, and smells, I swear
Not of itself, but thee.

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This video, the Thousand Hand Guan Yin performed by the China Deaf Group of Dancers, has been made available by Bryce who lives in Singapore. He adds the following -
“As long as you are kind and there is love in your heart, a thousand hands will naturally come to your aid. As long as you are kind and there is love in your heart, you will reach out with a thousand hands to help others.”



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Thanks to freefoto.com for this view of Lochmaben in Dumfriesshire

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The sun has long been set,
The stars are out by twos and threes,
The little birds are piping yet
Among the bushes and the trees;
There’s a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes,
And a far-off wind that rushes,
And a sound of water that gushes,
And the cuckoo’s sovereign cry
Fills all the hollow of the sky.

Who would go “parading”
In London, and “masquerading,”
On such a night of June
With that beautiful soft half-moon,
And all these innocent blisses?
0n such a night as this is! (William Wordsworth 1770-1850)

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Just a-wearyin’ for you
All the time a-feelin’ blue,
Wishin’ for you, wond’rin’ when
You’ll be comin’ home again,
Restless, don’t know what to do,
Just a-wearyin’ for you.

Evenin’ comes, I miss you more
When the dark glooms round the door,
Seems just like you ought to be
Here to open it for me,
Latch goes tinklin’, thrills me through,
Just a-wearyin’ for you. (Frank Stanton 1857-1927)

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NEW - My Own Selection of Pre-Raphaelite Paintings begins today at -
http://myownselection.blogspot.com

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“Gather Ye Rosebuds” by John William Waterhouse 1849-1917

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Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying,
And the same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying. (Robert Herrick)

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“To Daffodils” by Robert Herrick 1591-1674

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising Sun
Has not attained his noon.
Stay, stay
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having prayed together, we
Will go with you along.

We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a Spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay
As you, or any thing.
We die,
As your hours do, and dry
Away
Like to the Summer’s rain;
Or as the pearls of morning’s dew,
Ne’er to be found again.

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As a white candle
In a holy place
So is the beauty
Of an aged face.
As the spent radiance
Of the winter sun,
So is a woman
With her travail done,
Her brood gone from her,
And her thoughts as still
As the waters
Under a ruined mill.
(Joseph Campbell 1879-1944, Irish poet also known as Seosamh MacCathmhaoil)

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Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand lightly upon those who have used him well; making them old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their hearts and spirits young and in full vigour. With such people the grey head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in the quiet calendar of a well-spent life. (Charles Dickens 1812-1870)

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The music is "Elizabethan Serenade" by Ronald Binge



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“La Donna Velata” by Raphael (1483-1520)

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The first time ever I saw your face
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and stars were the gifts you gave
To the dark and the empty skies, my love,
To the dark and the empty skies. (Ewen McColl 1915-1989)

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You'll love me yet and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry
From seeds of April's sowing.

I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike,
And yield what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like!

You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave's one violet:
Your look? that pays a thousand pains.
What's death? You'll love me yet!  (Robert Browning 1812-1889)

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“View of Laerdalsaren on the Sognefiord” by Themistokles von Eckenbrecher (1842-1921)

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Gone were but the Winter,
Come were but the Spring,
I would go to a covert
Where the birds sing;

Where in the whitethorn
Singeth a thrush,
And a robin sings
In the holly-bush.

Full of fresh scents
Are the budding boughs
Arching high over
A cool greenhouse;

Full of sweet scents
And whispering air
Which sayeth softly:
“We spread no snare;

“Here dwell in safety,
Here dwell alone,
With a clear stream
And a mossy stone.

“Here the sun shineth
Most shadily;
Here is heard an echo
Of the far sea,
Though far off it be.” (Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830-1894)

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“Spring in Norway” is the title of this slide show. The music is “Spring” by Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) played by the Oslo Camerata.





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And Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. (Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822)

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