Last entry

Thank you all for reading this blog over the last two years. 

Today will be the last entry. 
It was a fun experiment for me. 
Time simply prevents me from continuing. 
So with a heavy sigh I say good-bye.


Thank you.  Good-bye.

The Rain-bow by Thomas Love Peacock

The Rain-bow

By Thomas Love Peacock

 

The day has pass’d in storms, though not unmix’d
With transitory calm.   The western clouds,
Dissolving slow, unveil the glorious sun,
Majestic in decline.   The wat’ry east
Glows with the many-tinted arch of Heav’n.
We hail it as a pledge that brighter skies
Shall bless the coming morn.   Thus rolls the day,
The short dark day of life;   with tempests thus,
And fleeting sun-shine chequer’d.   At its close,
When the dread hour draws near, that bursts all ties,
All commerce with the world, Religion pours
Hope’s fairy-colors on the virtuous mind,
And, like the rain-bow on the ev’ning clouds,
Gives the bright promise that a happier dawn
Shall chase the night and silence of the grave.

The Pulley by George Herbert

The Pulley

By George Herbert

 

  When God at first made man,

Having a glass of blessings standing by,

"Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie,
   Contract into a span.”
 
   So strength first made a way;
Then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honour, pleasure.
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,
   Rest in the bottom lay.
 
   “For if I should,” said he,
“Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
   So both should losers be.

 

   “Yet let him keep the rest,

But keep them with repining restlessness;

Let him be rich and weary, that at least,

If goodness lead him not, yet weariness

   May toss him to my breast.”

Cycles by Annella Grayce

Cycles

By Annella Grayce

 

                    Spring

Winter                            Summer

                   Autumn

 

                   Sunrise

Midnight                         Noon

                   Sunset

 

Light            Dark

Hot              Cold

Life             Death

 

Cycles go round and round

Life goes up and down

It’s all just waiting to . . . lived            enjoyed        discovered

                                      squandered   wasted         ignored

The choice is yours.  Choose wisely

Born Like the Pines by: James Ephrain McGirt

Born Like the Pines

By:  James Ephrain McGirt

 

Born like the pines to sing,

   The harp and song in m’ breast,

Though far and near,

There’s none to hear,

I’ll sing as th’ winds request.

 

To tell the trend of m’ lay,

   Is not for th’ harp or me;

I’m only to know,

From the winds that blow,

What th’ theme of m’ song shall be.

 

Born like the pines to sing,

   The harp and th’ song in m’ breast,

As th’ winds sweep by,

I’ll laugh or cry,

In th’ winds I cannot rest.

 

The Tree by Anne Finch

The Tree

By:  Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea

 

Fair tree! for thy delightful shade

'Tis just that some return be made;

Sure some return is due from me

To thy cool shadows, and to thee.

When thou to birds dost shelter give,

Thou music dost from them receive;

If travellers beneath thee stay

Till storms have worn themselves away,

That time in praising thee they spend

And thy protecting pow'r commend.

The shepherd here, from scorching freed,

Tunes to thy dancing leaves his reed;

Whilst his lov'd nymph, in thanks, bestows

Her flow'ry chaplets on thy boughs.

Shall I then only silent be,

And no return be made by me?

No; let this wish upon thee wait,

And still to flourish be thy fate.

To future ages may'st thou stand

Untouch'd by the rash workman's hand,

Till that large stock of sap is spent,

Which gives thy summer's ornament;

Till the fierce winds, that vainly strive

To shock thy greatness whilst alive,

Shall on thy lifeless hour attend,

Prevent the axe, and grace thy end;

Their scatter'd strength together call

And to the clouds proclaim thy fall;

Who then their ev'ning dews may spare

When thou no longer art their care,

But shalt, like ancient heroes, burn,

And some bright hearth be made thy urn.

Cold v Warm by Annella Grayce

Cold v Warm

By Annella Grayce

 

Cold is harsh

Warm is inviting

Cold is penetrating

Warm is welcome

Cold is hard

Warm is comforting

Cold is unwanted

Warm is enveloping

Cold is only one season

Warm is the rest of the year

The Sound of Trees by Robert Frost

The Sound of Trees
By Robert Frost

I wonder about the trees.

Why do we wish to bear
Forever the noise of these
More than another noise
So close to our dwelling place?
We suffer them by the day
Till we lose all measure of pace,
And fixity in our joys,
And acquire a listening air.
They are that that talks of going
But never gets away;
And that talks no less for knowing,
As it grows wiser and older,
That now it means to stay.
My feet tug at the floor
And my head sways to my shoulder
Sometimes when I watch trees sway,
From the window or the door.
I shall set forth for somewhere,
I shall make the reckless choice
Some day when they are in voice
And tossing so as to scare
The white clouds over them on.
I shall have less to say,
But I shall be gone.