education
The Dream Of Those Days
The dream of those days when first I sung thee is o’er
Thy triumph hath stain’d the charm thy sorrows then wore;
And even the light which Hope once shed o’er thy chains,
Alas, not a gleam to grace thy freedom remains.
Say, is it that slavery sunk so deep in thy heart,
That still the dark brand is there, though chainless thou art;
And Freedom’s sweet fruit, for which thy spirit long burn’d,
Now, reaching at last thy lip, to ashes hath turn’d?
Up Liberty’s steep by Truth and Eloquence led,
With eyes on her temple fix’d, how proud was thy tread!
Ah, better thou ne’er hadst lived that summit to gain,
Denied in the porch, than thus dishonour the fane.
– Thomas Moore
Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts
25th May – On This Day In History
Born:
1979 Johnny Wilkinson (England rugby player)
Died:
1971 Terence De Marney (actor – Dr Who)
On This Day:
1946 Jordan gains its independence (from Britain)
Have a good Friday, 25th May
Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts
Song Of The Evil Spirits Of The Woods
Now the vapor, hot and damp,
Shed by day’s expiring lamp,
Through the misty ether spreads
Every ill the white man dreads;
Fiery fever’s thirsty thrill,
Fitful ague’s shivering chill!
Hark! I hear the traveller’s song,
As he winds the woods along;-
Christian, ’tis the song of fear;
Wolves are round thee, night is near,
And the wild thou dar’st to roam-
Think, ’twas once the Indian’s home!
Hither, sprites, who love to harm,
Wheresoe’er you work your charm,
By the creeks, or by the brakes,
Where the pale witch feeds her snakes,
And the cayman loves to creep,
Torpid, to his wintry sleep:
Where the bird of carrion flits,
And the shuddering murderer sits,
Lone beneath a roof of blood;
While upon his poisoned food,
From the corpse of him he slew
Drops the chill and gory dew.
Hither bend ye, turn ye hither,
Eyes that blast and wings that wither
Cross the wandering Christian’s way,
Lead him, ere the glimpse of day,
Many a mile of maddening error
Through the maze of night and terror,
Till the morn behold him lying
On the damp earth, pale and dying.
Mock him, when his eager sight
Seeks the cordial cottage-light;
Gleam then, like the lightning-bug,
Tempt him to the den that’s dug
For the foul and famished brood
Of the she wolf, gaunt for blood;
Or, unto the dangerous pass
O’er the deep and dark morass,
Where the trembling Indian brings
Belts of porcelain, pipes, and rings,
Tributes, to be hung in air,
To the Fiend presiding there!
Then, when night’s long labor past,
Wildered, faint, he falls at last,
Sinking where the causeway’s edge
Moulders in the slimy sedge,
There let every noxious thing
Trail its filth and fix its sting;
Let the bull-toad taint him over,
Round him let mosquitoes hover,
In his ears and eyeballs tingling,
With his blood their poison mingling,
Till, beneath the solar fires,
Rankling all, the wretch expires!
– Thomas Moore
Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts
24th May – On This Day In History
Born:
1819 Queen Victoria (Queen of England)
Died:
1543 Copernicus (astronomer & mathematician)
On This Day:
1862 Westminster Bridge, London (crossing the Thames) is officially opened
Have a good Thursday, 24th May
Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts
Irish Love Song
Well, if the thing is over, better it is for me,
The lad was ever a rover, loving and laughing free,
Far too clever a lover not to be having still
A lass in the town and a lass by the road and a lass by the farther hill —
Love on the field and love on the path and love in the woody glen —
(Lad, will I never see you, never your face again?)
Ay, if the thing is ending, now I’ll be getting rest,
Saying my prayers and bending down to be stilled and blest,
Never the days are sending hope till my heart is sore
For a laugh on the path and a voice by the gate and a step
on the shieling floor —
Grief on my ways and grief on my work and grief till the evening’s dim —
(Lord, will I never hear it, never a sound of him?)
Sure if it’s done forever, better for me that’s wise,
Never the hurt, and never tears in my aching eyes,
No more the trouble ever to hide from my asking folk
Beat of my heart at click o’ the latch, and throb if his name is spoke;
Never the need to hide the sighs and the flushing thoughts and the fret,
And after awhile my heart will hush and my hungering hands forget . . .
Peace on my ways, and peace in my step, and maybe my heart grown light —
(Mary, helper of heartbreak, send him to me to-night!)
– Margaret Widdemer
Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts
23rd May – On This Day In History
Born:
1958 Drew Carey (actor & comedian)
Died:
1868 Kit Carson (American frontiersman)
On This Day:
1568 The Netherlands declares independence (from Spain)
Have a good Wednesday, 23rd May
Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts
Irish Whiskey
Mourning a lost love,
At a table for two.
With a bottle of whiskey,
Keeping him blue.
No consoling words,
Does he want to hear.
He just thinks of her face,
And that brings the tears.
Maybe by drinking,
He can forget.
Not knowing that drinking,
Keeps her in his head.
In the morning he’ll rise,
And start once again.
Drinking Irish Whiskey.
That eases his pain.
– Juan Olivarez
Please visit the above, and click out on a Google link – help me pay for the time it takes to makes these daily posts
