R.E. Slater - Star Light, Star Bright (a poem)

Galaxy Rising

Star Light, Star Bright

by R.E. Slater

We are light!

Did you know that?
Formed from starlight's ancient cosmic debris
Mashed together across the wastelands of space -
Empty space, but not nearly empty, just emptied for creation,
As cosmic dust fallen to Earth
Fallen from the dazzling skies above
Ordained by creation's hands by the Almighty God of Love.

Bourne by Light, birthed of Light, formed from Light -
Ye Stars of heaven fallen to Earth
Mingling with earth
Mingling Love
Mangled by sin's dark emptiness.

To shine on a new day as the stars above -
Lighting dark places holding earth's sin
Lighting eternity's days with starlight above
Swept from the heaven's
Fallen as Love.


- R.E. Slater
June 15, 2012

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved

“The cosmos is within us.

We are made of star-stuff.

We are a way for the universe to know itself.”

―Carl Sagan

Drops of Jupiter - Train

Related -

Stardust - Willie Nelson

Discover Science - A Cosmic Recipe for Earthlings

Gratitutde and Thankfulness

49 Gratitude Quotes and A Poem of Thankfulness

http://daringtolivefully.com/gratitude-quotes

by Marelisa Fábrega

Gratitude has been linked to increased levels of happiness and life satisfaction. Giving thanks is one of the most powerful ways there is to increase your well-being. Here, then, are 49 gratitude quotes to help keep you focused on all of the good that is present in your life, and everything that you have to be thankful for.

1. “At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.” — Albert Schweitzer

2. “You say grace before meals. All right. But I say grace before the concert and the opera, and grace before the play and pantomime, and grace before I open a book, and grace before sketching, painting, swimming, fencing, boxing, walking, playing, dancing and grace before I dip the pen in the ink.” — G. K. Chesterton

3. “No duty is more urgent than that of returning thanks”. — Unknown

4. “Let us be grateful to people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” — Marcel Proust

5. “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.” — Epictetus

6. “You simply will not be the same person two months from now after consciously giving thanks each day for the abundance that exists in your life. And you will have set in motion an ancient spiritual law: the more you have and are grateful for, the more will be given you.” — Sarah Ban Breathnach

7. “We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” — Thornton Wilder

8. “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” — Albert Einstein

9. “Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.” — William Arthur Ward

10. “Take full account of the excellencies which you possess, and in gratitude remember how you would hanker after them, if you had them not.” — Marcus Aurelius

11. “Real life isn’t always going to be perfect or go our way, but the recurring acknowledgement of what is working in our lives can help us not only to survive but surmount our difficulties.” — Sarah Ban Breathnach

12. “We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” — Cynthia Ozick

13. “Can you see the holiness in those things you take for granted–a paved road or a washing machine? If you concentrate on finding what is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.” — Rabbi Harold Kushner

14. “We can be thankful to a friend for a few acres or a little money; and yet for the freedom and command of the whole earth, and for the great benefits of our being, our life, health, and reason, we look upon ourselves as under no obligation.” — Marcus Annaeus Seneca

15. “When we become more fully aware that our success is due in large measure to the loyalty, helpfulness, and encouragement we have received from others, our desire grows to pass on similar gifts. Gratitude spurs us on to prove ourselves worthy of what others have done for us. The spirit of gratitude is a powerful energizer.” — Wilferd A. Peterson

16. “Whatever our individual troubles and challenges may be, it’s important to pause every now and then to appreciate all that we have, on every level. We need to literally “count our blessings,” give thanks for them, allow ourselves to enjoy them, and relish the experience of prosperity we already have.” — Shakti Gawain

17.

“Thou that has given so much to me,
Give one thing more–a grateful heart;
Not thankful when it pleaseth me,
As if thy blessings had spare days;
But such a heart, whose pulse may be
Thy praise.”

– George Herbert

18. “(Some people) have a wonderful capacity to appreciate again and again, freshly and naively, the basic goods of life, with awe, pleasure, wonder, and even ecstasy.” — A.H. Maslow

19. “If the only prayer you say in your life is thank you, that would suffice.” — Meister Eckhart

20. “Find the good and praise it.” — Alex Haley

21. “Give thanks for a little and you will find a lot.” — The Hausa of Nigeria

22. “What if you gave someone a gift, and they neglected to thank you for it-would you be likely to give them another? Life is the same way. In order to attract more of the blessings that life has to offer, you must truly appreciate what you already have.” — Ralph Marston

23. “Happiness is itself a kind of gratitude.” — Joseph Wood Krutch

24. “The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.” — Henry Miller

25. “There is a calmness to a life lived in gratitude, a quiet joy.” — Ralph H. Blum

26. “Gratefulness is the key to a happy life that we hold in our hands, because if we are not grateful, then no matter how much we have we will not be happy — because we will always want to have something else or something more.” — Brother David Steindl-Rast

27. “Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude.” — Denis Waitley

28. “As each day comes to us refreshed and anew, so does my gratitude renew itself daily. The breaking of the sun over the horizon is my grateful heart dawning upon a blessed world. ” — Adabella Radici

29.

“For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

30. “Grace isn’t a little prayer you chant before receiving a meal. It’s a way to live. ” — Attributed to Jacqueline Winspear

31. “When eating bamboo sprouts, remember the man who planted them.” — Chinese Proverb

32. “Only a stomach that rarely feels hungry scorns common things.” — Horace

33. “But the value of gratitude does not consist solely in getting you more blessings in the future. Without gratitude you cannot long keep from dissatisfied thought regarding things as they are.” — Wallace Wattles

34. “Blessed are those that can give without remembering and receive without forgetting.” — Author Unknown

35. “If you concentrate on finding whatever is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.” — Rabbi Harold Kushner

36. “Nothing that is done for you is a matter of course. Everything originates in a will for the good, which is directed at you. Train yourself never to put off the word or action for the expression of gratitude.” — Albert Schweitzer

37. “God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say “thank you?” — William A. Ward

38. “Gratitude is a vaccine, an antitoxin, and an antiseptic.” — John Henry Jowett

39. “Feeling grateful or appreciative of someone or something in your life actually attracts more of the things that you appreciate and value into your life.” — Christiane Northrup

40.”The best way to pay for a lovely moment is to enjoy it.” — Richard Bach

41. “Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has plenty; not on your past misfortunes of which all men have some.” — Charles Dickens

42. “Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend… when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that’s present — love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and personal pursuits that bring us pleasure — the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on earth.” – Sarah Ban Breathnach

43. “Whenever we are appreciative, we are filled with a sense of well-being and swept up by the feeling of joy.” — M.J. Ryan

44. “Gratitude is riches. Complaint is poverty.” – Doris Day

45. “Many people who order their lives rightly in all other ways are kept in poverty by their lack of gratitude.” — Wallace Wattles

46. “Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so, let us all be thankful.” — Buddha

47. “Two kinds of gratitude: The sudden kind we feel for what we take; the larger kind we feel for what we give.” — Edwin Arlington Robinson

48. “There is a law of gratitude, and it is . . . the natural principle that action and reaction are always equal and in opposite directions. The grateful outreaching of your mind in thankful praise to supreme intelligence is a liberation or expenditure of force. It cannot fail to reach that to which it is addressed, and the reaction is an instantaneous movement toward you.” — Wally Wattles

49. “Gratitude should not be just a reaction to getting what you want, but an all-the-time gratitude, the kind where you notice the little things and where you constantly look for the good, even in unpleasant situations. Start bringing gratitude to your experiences, instead of waiting for a positive experience in order to feel grateful.” — Marelisa Fábrega

Be Thankful

Be thankful that you don’t already have everything you desire,

If you did, what would there be to look forward to?

Be thankful when you don’t know something

For it gives you the opportunity to learn.

Be thankful for the difficult times.

During those times you grow.

Be thankful for your limitations

Because they give you opportunities for improvement.

Be thankful for each new challenge

Because it will build your strength and character.

Be thankful for your mistakes

They will teach you valuable lessons.

Be thankful when you’re tired and weary

Because it means you’ve made a difference.

It is easy to be thankful for the good things.

A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are

also thankful for the setbacks.

GRATITUDE can turn a negative into a positive.

Find a way to be thankful for your troubles

and they can become your blessings.

- Author Unknown

Also see -

Thoughts on Gratitude and Thanksgiving

http://relevancy22.blogspot.com/2012/06/thoughts-on-gratitude-and-thankfulness.html

More Poems About Thanks and Gratitude http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20498

Thanks by W. S. Merwin Listen... The Thanksgivings by Harriet Maxwell Converse We who are here present thank the Great Spirit... A List of Praises by Anne Porter Give praise with psalms that tell the trees to sing... Around Us by Marvin Bell We need some pines to assuage the darkness... Dusting by Marilyn Nelson Thank you for these tiny... For the Fallen by Laurence Binyon With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children... Starfish by Eleanor Lerman This is what life does. It lets you walk up to... What Was Told, That by Rumi translated by Coleman Barks What was said to the rose that made it open was said... Lift Every Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson Lift ev'ry voice and sing... Rabbi Ben Ezra by Robert Browning Grow old along with me... For the Twentieth Century by Frank Bidart Bound, hungry to pluck again from the thousand... Slow Waltz Through Inflatable Landscape by Christian Hawkey At the time of his seeing a hole opened—a pocket opened... The Routine Things Around the House by Stephen Dunn When Mother died... The Teacher by Hilarie Jones I was twenty-six the first time I held... The Triumph of Time by Algernon Charles Swinburne Before our lives divide for ever... Two Countries by Naomi Shihab Nye Skin remembers how long the years grow... Visiting Pai-an Pavilion by Hsieh Ling-yun translated by Sam Hamill Beside this dike, I shake off the world's dust...

Ernest Lawrence Thayer - Casey at the Bat

CASEY AT THE BAT

The San Francisco Examiner - June 3, 1888

by Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:

The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,

And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,

A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest

Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;

They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that--

We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."

But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,

And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;

So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,

For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.

But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,

And Blake, the much despised, tore the cover off the ball;

And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,

There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;

It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;

It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,

For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.

There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;

There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.

And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,

No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;

Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt;

Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,

Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,

And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.

Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped--

"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.

From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,

Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;

"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;

And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.

With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;

He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;

He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;

But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"

"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"

But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.

They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,

And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,

He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;

And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,

And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,

But there is no joy in Mudville--mighty Casey has struck out.

Casey at the Bat by Ernest Thayer
From the Baseball Almanac - http://www.baseball-almanac.com/poetry/po_case.shtml

It all started in 1885 when George Hearst decided to run for state senator in California. To self-promote his brand of politics, Hearst purchased the San Francisco Examiner. At the completion of the election, Hearst gave the newspaper to his son, William Randolph Hearst.

William, who had experience editing the Harvard Lampoon while at Harvard College, took to California three Lampoon staff members. One of those three was Ernest L. Thayer who signed his humorous Lampoon articles with the pen name Phin.

In the June 3, 1888 issue of The Examiner, Phin appeared as the author of the poem we all know as Casey at the Bat. The poem received very little attention and a few weeks later it was partially republished in the New York Sun, though the author was now known as Anon.

A New Yorker named Archibald Gunter clipped out the poem and saved it as a reference item for a future novel. Weeks later Gunter found another interesting article describing an upcoming performance at the Wallack Theatre by comedian De Wolf Hopper - who was also his personal friend. The August 1888 show (exact date is unknown) had members from the New York and Chicago ball clubs in the audience and the clipping now had a clear and obvious use.

Gunter shared Casey at the Bat with Hopper and the perfomance was nothing short of legendary. Baseball Almanac is pleased to present the single most famous baseball poem ever written.

"Love has its sonnets galore. War has its epics in heroic verse. Tragedy
its sombre story in measured lines. Baseball has Casey at the Bat."

- Albert Spalding

	The "audio moment" below is the actual voice of De Wolf Hopper and you will hear some slight variations in his delivery. Casey at the Bat - DeWolf Hopper - 1906 Victor First Prize Record http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X8fTrc9Cymk When William De Wolf Hopper performed the poem at Wallack's Theatre, on Broadway and 30th Street in New York City, players from the New York Giants and Chicago White Stockings were guests in the auditorium. Ernest Lawrence Thayer actually wrote three versions of Casey at the Bat — the first printing, a self-corrupted version, and the revised version.

Wikiepedia Info on Poem - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casey%27s_Revenge#Sequels

"Casey at the Bat: A Ballad of the Republic Sung in the Year 1888" is a baseball poem written in 1888 by Ernest Thayer. First published in The San Francisco Examiner on June 3, 1888, it was later popularized by DeWolf Hopper in many vaudeville performances.

The poem was originally published anonymously (under the pen name "Phin", based on Thayer's college nickname, "Phineas"). The author's identity was not widely known at first. A number falsely claimed to have authored the poem, and Thayer's efforts to set the record straight were often ignored.

Sequels

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Casey%27s_Revenge#Sequels

"Casey's Revenge", by Grantland Rice (1907), gives Casey another chance against the pitcher who had struck him out in the original story. It was written in 1906, and its first known publication was in the quarterly magazine The Speaker in June 1907, under the pseudonym of James Wilson^[17]. In this version, Rice cites the nickname "Strike-Out Casey", hence the influence on Casey Stengel's name. Casey's team is down three runs by the last of the ninth, and once again Casey is down to two strikes—with the bases full this time. However, he connects, hits the ball so far that it is never found, and the final stanza reads:

Oh! somewhere in this favored land dark clouds may hide the sun;

And somewhere bands no longer play and children have no fun;

And somewhere over blighted loves there hangs a heavy pall;

But Mudville hearts are happy now--for Casey hit the ball.

In response to the popularity of the 1946 Walt Disney, Disney released a sequel, "Casey Bats Again" (1954), in which Casey's nine daughters redeem his reputation.

In 1988, on the 100th anniversary of the poem, Sports Illustrated writer Frank Deford constructed a fanciful story (later expanded to book form) which posited Katie Casey, the subject of the song "Take Me Out to the Ball Game", as being the daughter of the famous slugger from the poem.

In 2010, Ken Eagle wrote “The Mudville Faithful,” covering a century of the Mudville nine's ups and downs since Casey struck out. Faithful fans still root for the perpetually losing team, and are finally rewarded by a trip to the World Series, led by Casey's great-grandson who is also named Casey. 

Casey’s Revenge Grantland Rice (first published in The Nashville Tennessean, 1907) Grantland Rice (November 1, 1880 – July 13, 1954) was an early 20th century American sportswriter known for his elegant prose. His writing was published in newspapers around the country and broadcast on the radio. There were saddened hearts in Mudville for a week or even more; There were muttered oaths and curses—every fan in town was sore. “Just think,” said one, “how soft it looked with Casey at the bat, And then to think he’d go and spring a bush league trick like that!” All his past fame was forgotten—he was now a hopeless “shine.” They called him “Strike-Out Casey,” from the mayor down the line; And as he came to bat each day his bosom heaved a sigh, While a look of hopeless fury shone in mighty Casey’s eye. He pondered in the days gone by that he had been their king, That when he strolled up to the plate they made the welkin ring; But now his nerve had vanished, for when he heard them hoot He “fanned” or “popped out” daily, like some minor league recruit. He soon began to sulk and loaf, his batting eye went lame; No home runs on the score card now were chalked against his name; The fans without exception gave the manager no peace, For one and all kept clamoring for Casey’s quick release. The Mudville squad began to slump, the team was in the air; Their playing went from bad to worse—nobody seemed to care. “Back to the woods with Casey!” was the cry from Rooters’ Row. “Get some one who can hit the ball, and let that big dub go!” The lane is long, some one has said, that never turns again, And Fate, though fickle, often gives another chance to men; And Casey smiled; his rugged face no longer wore a frown— The pitcher who had started all the trouble came to town. All Mudville had assembled—ten thousand fans had come To see the twirler who had put big Casey on the bum; And when he stepped into the box, the multitude went wild; He doffed his cap in proud disdain, but Casey only smiled. “Play ball!” the umpire’s voice rang out, and then the game began. But in that throng of thousands there was not a single fan Who thought that Mudville had a chance, and with the setting sun Their hopes sank low—the rival team was leading “four to one.” The last half of the ninth came round, with no change in the score; But when the first man up hit safe, the crowd began to roar; The din increased, the echo of ten thousand shouts was heard When the pitcher hit the second and gave “four balls” to the third. Three men on base —nobody out —three runs to tie the game! A triple meant the highest niche in Mudville’s hall of fame; But here the rally ended and the gloom was deep as night, When the fourth one “fouled to catcher” and the fifth “flew out to right.” A dismal groan in chorus came; a scowl was on each face When Casey walked up, bat in hand, and slowly took his place; His bloodshot eyes in fury gleamed, his teeth were clenched in hate; He gave his cap a vicious hook and pounded on the plate. But fame is fleeting as the wind and glory fades away; There were no wild and woolly cheers, no glad acclaim this day; They hissed and groaned and hooted as they clamored: “Strike him out!” But Casey gave no outward sign that he had heard this shout. The pitcher smiled and cut one loose —across the plate it sped; Another hiss, another groan. “Strike one!” the umpire said. Zip! Like a shot the second curve broke just below the knee. “Strike two!” the umpire roared aloud; but Casey made no plea. No roasting for the umpire now —his was an easy lot; But here the pitcher whirled again—was that a rifle shot? A whack, a crack, and out through the space the leather pellet flew, A blot against the distant sky, a speck against the blue. Above the fence in center field in rapid whirling flight The sphere sailed on —the blot grew dim and then was lost to sight. Ten thousand hats were thrown in air, ten thousand threw a fit, But no one ever found the ball that mighty Casey hit. O, somewhere in this favored land dark clouds may hide the sun, And somewhere bands no longer play and children have no fun! And somewhere over blighted lives there hangs a heavy pall, But Mudville hearts are happy now, for Casey hit the ball.

Gerard Manley Hopkins - 8 Select Poems

The Windhover

To Christ our Lord

I caught this morning morning's minion, kingdom
of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon, in
his riding
Of the rolling level underneath him steady air, and striding
High there, how he rung upon the rein of a wimpling wing
In his ecstasy! then off, off forth on swing,
As a skate's heel sweeps smooth on a bow-bend: the hurl
and gliding
Rebuffed the big wind. My heart in hiding
Stirred for a bird, - the achieve of, the mastery of the thing!

Brute beauty and valour and act, oh, air, pride, plume, here
Buckle! AND the fire that breaks from thee then, a billion
Times told lovelier, more dangerous, O my chevalier!

No wonder of it: shèer plòd makes plough down sillion
Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear,
Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold vermilion.

Spring and Fall

To a young child

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.

Binsey Poplars

(Felled 1879)

My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled,
Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun,
All felled, felled, are all felled;
Of a fresh and following folded rank
Not spared, not one
That dandled a sandalled
Shadow that swam or sank
On meadow and river and wind-wandering
weed-winding bank.

O if we but knew what we do
When we delve or hew -
Hack and rack the growing green!
Since country is so tender
To touch, her being so slender,
That, like this sleek and seeing ball
But a prick will make no eye at all,

Where we, even where we mean
To mend her we end her,
When we hew or delve:
After-comers cannot guess the beauty been.
Ten or twelve, only ten or twelve
Strokes of havoc unselve
The sweet especial scene,
Rural scene, a rural scene,
Sweet especial rural scene.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire

As king fishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves -- goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is --
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.





Andromeda

Now Time’s Andromeda on this rock rude,
With not her either beauty’s equal or
Her injury’s, looks off by both horns of shore,
Her flower, her piece of being, doomed dragon’s food.
Time past she has been attempted and pursued
By many blows and banes; but now hears roar
A wilder beast from West than all were, more
Rife in her wrongs, more lawless, and more lewd.

Her Perseus linger and leave her tó her extremes?—
Pillowy air he treads a time and hangs
His thoughts on her, forsaken that she seems,
All while her patience, morselled into pangs,
Mounts; then to alight disarming, no one dreams,
With Gorgon’s gear and barebill, thongs and fangs.





Duns Scotus' s Oxford

Towery city and branchy between towers;
Cuckoo-echoing, bell-swarmèd, lark-charmèd, rook-racked, river-rounded;
The dapple-eared lily below thee; that country and town did
Once encounter in, here coped and poisèd powers;

Thou hast a base and brickish skirt there, sours
That neighbour-nature thy grey beauty is grounded
Best in; graceless growth, thou hast confounded
Rural rural keeping—folk, flocks, and flowers.

Yet ah! this air I gather and I release
He lived on; these weeds and waters, these walls are what
He haunted who of all men most sways my spirits to peace;

Of realty the rarest-veinèd unraveller; a not
Rivalled insight, be rival Italy or Greece;
Who fired France for Mary without spot.





At the Wedding-March

God with honour hang your head,
Groom, and grace you, bride, your bed
With lissome scions, sweet scions,
Out of hallowed bodies bred.

Each be other’s comfort kind:
Déep, déeper than divined,
Divine charity, dear charity,
Fast you ever, fast bind.

Then let the March tread our ears:
I to him turn with tears
Who to wedlock, his wonder wedlock,
Déals tríumph and immortal years.





Brothers

How lovely the elder brother’s
Life all laced in the other’s,
Lóve-laced!—what once I well
Witnessed; so fortune fell.
When Shrovetide, two years gone,
Our boys’ plays brought on
Part was picked for John,
Young Jóhn: then fear, then joy
Ran revel in the elder boy.
Their night was come now; all
Our company thronged the hall;
Henry, by the wall,
Beckoned me beside him:
I came where called, and eyed him
By meanwhiles; making my play
Turn most on tender byplay.
For, wrung all on love’s rack,
My lad, and lost in Jack,
Smiled, blushed, and bit his lip;
Or drove, with a diver’s dip,
Clutched hands down through clasped knees—
Truth’s tokens tricks like these,
Old telltales, with what stress
He hung on the imp’s success.
Now the other was bráss-bóld:
Hé had no work to hold
His heart up at the strain;
Nay, roguish ran the vein.
Two tedious acts were past;
Jack’s call and cue at last;
When Henry, heart-forsook,
Dropped eyes and dared not look.
Eh, how áll rúng!
Young dog, he did give tongue!
But Harry—in his hands he has flung
His tear-tricked cheeks of flame
For fond love and for shame.
Ah Nature, framed in fault,
There ’s comfort then, there ’s salt;
Nature, bad, base, and blind,
Dearly thou canst be kind;
There dearly thén, deárly,
I’ll cry thou canst be kind.