William Shakespeare - The Tempest, Act IV, Scene 1

William Shakespeare, 1564 - 1616

Prospero speaks to Ferdinand and Miranda

You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay’d: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex’d;
Bear with my weakness; my, brain is troubled:
Be not disturb’d with my infirmity:
If you be pleased, retire into my cell
And there repose: a turn or two I’ll walk,
To still my beating mind.

Saturday Poetry - Percy Bysshe Shelley

Amid the desolation of a city,
Which was the cradle, and is now the grave
Of an extinguished people,—so that Pity

Weeps o’er the shipwrecks of Oblivion’s wave,
There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built
Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave

For bread, and gold, and blood: Pain, linked to Guilt,
Agitates the light flame of their hours,
Until its vital oil is spent or spilt.

There stands the pile, a tower amid the towers 
And sacred domes; each marble-ribbed roof,
The brazen-gated temples, and the bowers

Of solitary wealth,--the tempest-proof
Pavilions of the dark Italian air,--
Are by its presence dimmed--they stand aloof, 

And are withdrawn—so that the world is bare;
As if a spectre wrapped in shapeless terror
Amid a company of ladies fair

Should glide and glow, till it became a mirror
Of all their beauty, and their hair and hue,
The life of their sweet eyes, with all its error,
Should be absorbed, till they to marble grew. 

Saturday Poetry - The Sweet Hussy, Thomas Hardy

In his early days he was quite surprised
 When she told him she was compromised
 By meetings and lingerings at his whim,
 And thinking not of herself but him;
 While she lifted orbs aggrieved and round
 That scandal should so soon abound,
 (As she had raised them to nine or ten
 Of antecedent nice young men):
 And in remorse he thought with a sigh,
 How good she is, and how bad am I! -
 It was years before he understood
 That she was the wicked one - he the good.

Saturday Poetry - The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
 To where it bent in the undergrowth;
 Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
 Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
 And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
 Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

 I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
 I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Saturday Poetry - On A Vulgar Error, C.S. Lewis

C. S. Lewis


On A Vulgar Error

No. It's an impudent falsehood. Men did not
Invariably think the newer way Prosaic
mad, inelegant, or what not.

Was the first pointed arch esteemed a blot
Upon the church? Did anybody say How
modern and how ugly? They did not.

Plate-armour, or windows glazed, or verse fire-hot
With rhymes from France, or spices from Cathay,
Were these at first a horror? They were not.

If, then, our present arts, laws, houses, food
All set us hankering after yesterday,
Need this be only an archaising mood?

Why, any man whose purse has been let blood
By sharpers, when he finds all drained away
Must compare how he stands with how he stood.

If a quack doctor's breezy ineptitude
Has cost me a leg, must I forget straightway
All that I can't do now, all that I could?

So, when our guides unanimously decry
The backward glance, I think we can guess why.

Saturday Poetry - Untitled Poem, Nathaniel Whitly

Nathaniel Whitely



Created on: February 10, 2008


Archer, Archer!
Take Aim!
Nock your shaft,
bend your bow.

Become the arrow,
and with its loose,
let the string cut straight through you.

With this shot, you die.
With the next, you are reborn.

Saturday Poetry - David Hulme, Fields of Green

GFields of Green

David Hulme




Now Paradise is very nice,
But give me fields of green,
Where regimented targets stand,
And archers can be seen.

Where time begins to lose its beat
In leisured conversation,
And archers bend the bow complete
In measured concentration.

Where day on day can slip away
In soothing repetition,
Where scores are reached - and often breached -
In friendly competition.

Yes, Paradise is very nice,
It's here between the row
Of targets and the shooting line
And archers in the bow.

Saturday Poetry - If, Rudyard Kipling

If

Rudyard Kipling



If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

"If—" is a poem written in 1895 by British Nobel laureate Rudyard Kipling.

It was first published in the "Brother Square Toes" chapter of Rewards and Fairies, Kipling's 1910 collection of short stories and poems.

Like William Ernest Henley's "Invictus", it is a memorable evocation of Victorian stoicism and the "stiff upper lip" that popular culture has made into a traditional British virtue. Its status is confirmed both by the number of parodies it has inspired, and by the widespread popularity it still enjoys amongst Britons. It is often voted Britain's favourite poem.

The poem's line, "If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster and treat those two impostors just the same" is written on the wall of the Centre Court players' entrance at the British tennis tournament, Wimbledon, and the entire poem was read in a promotional video for the Wimbledon 2008 gentleman's final by Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal.

According to Kipling in his autobiography Something of Myself, posthumously published in 1937, the poem was inspired by Dr. Leander Starr Jameson, who in 1895 led a raid by British forces against the Boers in South Africa, subsequently called the Jameson Raid. This defeat increased the tensions that ultimately led to the Second Boer War. The British press, however, portrayed Jameson as a hero in the middle of the disaster, and the actual defeat as a British victory

Saturday Poetry

Phillip Ayres, 1638 - 1712

An Ode of Anacreon


My hairs are hoary, wrinkled is my Face,
I lose my strength, and all my manly grace
My eyes grow dim, my teeth are broke or gone,
And the best part of all my life is done;

I'm drown'd in cares, and often sigh and weep;
My spirits fail me, broken is my sleep
Thoughts of the gaping grave distract my head;
For in its paths, 'wake or asleep, we tread;

None can from it by art their feet restrain
Nor back, tho' wide its gates, can come again.
Then since these ills attend the life of man,
Let's make their burden easy as we can.

Cares are no cares, but whilst on them we think,
To clear our minds of such dull thoughts, let's drink.

Saturday Poetry

Ogden Nash
1902 - 1971

The Romantic Age

This one is entering her teens,
Ripe for sentimental scenes,
Has picked a gangling unripe male,
Sees herself in a bridal veil,
Presses lips and tosses head,
Declares she's not too young to wed,
Informs you pertly you forget
Romeo and Juliet.

Do not argue, do not shout;
Remind her how that one turned out.

From A Tribute to the Poet, Ogden Nash

Saturday Poetry

Paul Curtis

"Christmas Shocking"

Well worn festive tunes
Blare out
Hapless faces
Stare out
Faces strained
Bemused, Confused
Lists gripped tight
Pens ticking or deleting
Then onward
Loaded trolleys
Wildly steering
Zig zagging
Aisle to aisle
Every item
Must be had
Gin for her
Beer for dad
Chocs and cakes
Chops and steaks
Turkey, stuffing
Nuts and fruit
Frozen this
Pre-packed that
Pop and juice
Something’s loose
Everything ticked
On the tight gripped list
Nothing missed
Merry Christmas wished
Hundreds of pounds
Of Christmas bought
The festivities can begin
Relax in the knowledge
The shops will only be shut
For twenty four hours

Paul Curtis on Author's Den

Saturday Poetry

When I post Saturday Poetry, I try to find poetry that's different, interesting, relevant.

Well, it's December and I hate the Christmas season. So I don't want to post any Christmas poetry. So what else happens or happened in December?

From Brainy History, lots of stuff happened on December 6th:

In 1992, SF 49er Jerry Rice catches NFL record 101st touchdown
In 1957, AFL-CIO votes to expel Teamsters (readmitted in October 1987)

In 1732, 1st play in American colonies acted by professional players, New York City
In 1492, Haiti is discovered by Columbus, at Mole Saint Nicolas

And in 1160, Jean Bodel's "Jeu de St. Nicholas," premieres in Arras.

Well, Brainy History screwed that up--scholars believe Bodel was born about 1165 - 1167. But December 6th is the feast day of St. Nicholas, and the prologue references that day, so the date of the premiere (but not the year) is correct.

"The Play of Saint Nicholas" is a miracle play, in that "Musselmen" (Muslims) are converted en masse through a miracle performed by St. Nicholas.

From Robert Levine's English department page at Boston University, here is some of Eugene Green's translation of Jean Bodel's Le Jeu de St. Nicholas:

The Preacher

Listen up, listen up, ladies and gents
--'cause God Almighty is keeping your souls--
For your own good, don't screw up!

I'm aiming to speak to you all tonight
Of St. Nick the true confessor
Who's turned over many an outrageous trick.

Those knowing who he is have been often struck,
As perusing his life, to find

That a king of pagans sometime ago
Had Christians neighbors, almost cheek by jowl.
Every day gone by brought another scrap. 10

Day one the pagans launched an attack
Just at the time the men of the Church
Had no idea of the fight coming on.

At once tricked and surprised,
Many died or had to give up.
The enemy Christians quickly flaring out,

The pagan pursuit turned up a sage in a chapel
Kneeling in prayer, before him a carving
Of venerable St. Nick. The felons
Seized him, the curs, and soon 20
Mocked him enough and knocked him around.

Then they took the carving and sage,
Ringed him tight and held him close,
Till they had him down before their king,
Himself aroused by the victory.
It took no time to lay out the tale,

For the king to know the Christian's fate.
"Old geezer," said the king to the sage,
You put your faith in this piece of wood?"

"My lord, indeed, for this is Saint 30
Nicholas' statue, the saint I most love.
To him I pray and cry that no one
Who speaks from the heart will
Be lost to him for good and all.

And he's the great guardian
Who triples and profits
Whatever one asks him devoutly to keep."

--"Old sack, I'll have you stuck,
If he doesn't triple and guard
What I own; I put it to him 40
To save your rotten skin."

So the king had him locked up,
His neck in an iron sling;
Then he had his coffers opened
And laid the statue right on top.

At which he said, "If anyone
Steals it and if he can't
Bring it back, it'll be
The Christian who'll have to pay."

Thus he had the business done 50
Until thieves had wind of it;

One night, some three hatched a plot
To grab the carving and steal away.
And when they made off
God soon stirred them to find
some sleep: a drowsiness fell

So strong they had to take rest,
Somewhere, I guess, in a shed they had.

But to the point of Nick's miracle,
I'll go on to what the book says. 60

When the king heard and saw
That he'd lost the carving,
He understood that he'd been had.

He ordered that the sage be brought to him;
Eyeing him now, the king then said:
"Old bag, you think I'm tricked!"

The sage could barely answer the charge,
So hard his guards twisted his arms,
One way pushed, pulled the other.

The king ordered his death, 70
A hateful end, execrable pain.
"Oh king, in God's name, a brief delay!"
Not now or tonight!" the Christian said,

"Just time to see if St. Nicholas
Will come and rescue me."

Reluctantly the king agreed.

And here the book says that
He had him collared again,
In his cell praying till dawn,
In tears as he called his saint. 80

Not forgetting his sage,
Saint Nicholas was underway;
He'd come as far as the sleeping thieves,
Stirring them up where they lay.

And now when they saw him,
They at once were moved
To do what he willed.
And he, without delay,
Made them return the statue
In all haste right where 90
They'd first seen it,
Just where it had been.

So when the king had discovered
The miracle's truth,
He had the Christian sage
Summoned, freed of his bonds.
Baptised himself, he stood
As godfather for his men;
He soon became good and wise,
And never more committed a crime. 100

My friends, we can read the saint's life-
Tomorrow's his day, his feast.
Yet there's no need to marvel
If ever you've had a bad break;
For all of you will see us show,
For sure, some clear examples
Of Nick's great feats
As I've told you just now.
This miracle of St. Nick's
Is the story of our play. 110
Then, quiet everyone and give us an ear.

Saturday Poetry

From American Rhetoric

Washington's Thanksgiving Day Proclamation, delivered 3 October 1789, New York:

Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor, and Whereas both Houses of Congress have by their Joint Committee requested me “to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanks-giving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God, especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness.”

Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th. day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be. That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks, for his kind care and protection of the People of this country previous to their becoming a Nation, for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his providence, which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war, for the greatest degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed, for the peaceable and rational manner in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted, for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed, and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.

And also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions, to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually, to render our national government a blessing to all the People, by constantly being a government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executived and obeyed, to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shown kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord. To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the increase of science among them and Us, and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.

From Early America.com:

While there were Thanksgiving observances in America both before and after Washington's proclamation, this represents the first to be so designated by the new national government.

After their first harvest, the colonists of the Plymouth Plantation held a celebration of food and feasting in the fall of 1621. Indian chiefs Massassoit, Squanto and Samoset joined in the celebration with ninety of their men in the three-day event.

The first recorded Thanksgiving observance was held on June 29, 1671 at Charlestown, Massachusetts by proclamation of the town's governing council.

During the 1700s, it was common practice for individual colonies to observe days of thanksgiving throughout each year. A Thanksgiving Day two hundred years ago was a day set aside for prayer and fasting, not a day marked by plentiful food and drink as is today's custom. Later in the 18th century each of the states periodically would designate a day of thanksgiving in honor of a military victory, an adoption of a state constitution or an exceptionally bountiful crop.

Such a Thanksgiving Day celebration celebration was held in December of 1777 by the colonies nationwide, commemorating the surrender of British General Burgoyne at Saratoga.

And from The Papers of George Washington:

On 25 September 1789, Elias Boudinot of Burlington, New Jersey, introduced in the United States House of Representatives a resolution "That a joint committee of both Houses be directed to wait upon the President of the United States, to request that he would recommend to the people of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging, with grateful hearts, the many signal favors of Almighty God, especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a Constitution of government for their safety and happiness." The House was not unanimous in its determination to give thanks. Aedanus Burke of South Carolina objected that he "did not like this mimicking of European customs, where they made a mere mockery of thanksgivings." Thomas Tudor Tucker "thought the House had no business to interfere in a matter which did not concern them. Why should the President direct the people to do what, perhaps, they have no mind to do? They may not be inclined to return thanks for a Constitution until they have experienced that it promotes their safety and happiness. We do not yet know but they may have reason to be dissatisfied with the effects it has already produced; but whether this be so or not, it is a business with which Congress have nothing to do; it is a religious matter, and, as such, is proscribed to us. If a day of thanksgiving must take place, let it be done by the authority of the several States." [1]

Citing biblical precedents and resolutions of the Continental Congress, the proponents of a Thanksgiving celebration prevailed, and the House appointed a committee consisting of Elias Boudinot, Roger Sherman, and Peter Silvester to approach President Washington. The Senate agreed to the resolution on 26 September and appointed William Samuel Johnson and Ralph Izard to the joint committee. On 28 September the Senate committee reported that they had laid the resolution before the president. [2] Washington issued the proclamation on 3 October, designating a day of prayer and thanksgiving.

Whatever reservations may have been held by some public officials, the day was widely celebrated throughout the nation. The Virginia assembly, for example, resolved on 19 November that the chaplain "to this House, be accordingly requested to perform divine service, and to preach a sermon in the Capitol, before the General Assembly, suitable to the importance and solemnity of the occasion, on the said 26th day of November." [3] Most newspapers printed the proclamation and announced plans for public functions in honor of the day. Many churches celebrated the occasions by soliciting donations for the poor. Washington's secretary, Tobias Lear, wrote to John Rodgers, pastor of the two Presbyterian churches in New York City, on 28 November, that "by direction of the President of the United States I have the pleasure to send you twenty five dollars to be applied towards relieving the poor of the Presbyterian Churches. A paragraph in the papers mentioned that a contribution would be made for that purpose on Thanksgiving day; as no opportunity offered of doing it at that time, and not knowing into whose hands the money should be lodged which might be given afterwards--The President of the United States has directed me to send it to you, requesting that you will be so good as to put it into the way of answering the charitable purpose for which it is intended." [4]

Washington enclosed the Thanksgiving Proclamation in his Circular to the Governors of the States, written at New York on 3 October 1789: "I do myself the honor to enclose to your Excellency a Proclamation for a general Thanksgiving which I must request the favor of you to have published and made known in your State in the way and manner that shall be most agreeable to yourself." [5]

The bracketed numbers refer to footnotes at the above website.

Saturday Poetry

The Mayflower Compact 1620

The artist, Jean Leon Gerome Ferris depicts how he thinks passengers of the Mayflower looked signing the "Mayflower Compact." Included are Carver, Winston, Alden, Myles Standish, Howland, Bradford, Allerton, and Fuller. Starting in the early 20th century, Ferris created a series of commemorative interpretations of early American development called "The Pageant of a Nation."

Created/Published : July 28, 1932

Creator : Jean Leon Gerome Ferris, 1863-1930, artist.

Notes : Reproduction of an oil painting from the series: The Pageant of a Nation


From The Avalon Project at Yale Law School (documents in law, history and diplomacy)

Agreement Between the Settlers at New Plymouth : 1620

IN THE NAME OF GOD, AMEN. We, whose names are underwritten, the Loyal Subjects of our dread Sovereign Lord King James, by the Grace of God, of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith, &c. Having undertaken for the Glory of God, and Advancement of the Christian Faith, and the Honour of our King and Country, a Voyage to plant the first Colony in the northern Parts of Virginia; Do by these Presents, solemnly and mutually, in the Presence of God and one another, covenant and combine ourselves together into a civil Body Politick, for our better Ordering and Preservation, and Furtherance of the Ends aforesaid: And by Virtue hereof do enact, constitute, and frame, such just and equal Laws, Ordinances, Acts, Constitutions, and Officers, from time to time, as shall be thought most meet and convenient for the general Good of the Colony; unto which we promise all due Submission and Obedience. IN WITNESS whereof we have hereunto subscribed our names at Cape-Cod the eleventh of November, in the Reign of our Sovereign Lord King James, of England, France, and Ireland, the eighteenth, and of Scotland the fifty-fourth, Anno Domini; 1620.

From The U.S. Constitution Online: The Mayflower Compact

The Pilgrims are a revered and honored group in American history. The stories of survival, of relations with American Indians, of the first Thanksgiving, and of religious freedom found, are the stuff of American legend. One of the cornerstones of the Pilgrim ethos is the Mayflower Compact.

The Pilgrims were a small group of people bound by common religious beliefs. They did not believe in the influence over the church that the English king held, and preached separatism. This position did not sit well with the King, and by 1608, many of them left England for Holland, which was more tolerant of religious diversity. Though some of the group prospered, the time in Holland was hard. In particular, the group saw the children assimilating into Dutch culture, and they lamented the lack of opportunity to spread their interpretation of the Gospel to the far corners of the world.

The leaders began to think about moving. The two main proposed destinations were Guiana and Virginia; there was also some thought of going to Dutch America, specifically to settle near the Hudson River. Eventually, though, financing was secured to pay for settlement in New England, an area north of the Virginia settlements. Two ships were hired for the voyage - the Speedwell, to transport the passengers, and the larger Mayflower, to transport cargo and to do exploration. The Speedwell turned out to be unseaworthy (reports arose that its crew sabotaged the ship to get out of their contracts), so the Pilgrims and other colonists brought in by the investors crowded into the Mayflower; about twenty passengers had to be left behind. The ship finally sailed for America in September of 1620.

In November, the Mayflower spotted Cape Cod. They tried to sail south to the Hudson River, but turned back north when they encountered shoals. They anchored at Provincetown Harbor, at the northern tip of Cape Cod. While anchored and awaiting exploration to find a suitable place for colonization, the colonists decided that their contracts with their investors were not valid, not the least reason being that the promised land grants for New England were incomplete (the grants were finalized while the Mayflower was in transit). The colonists decided to enact a contract among themselves. This contract, later known at the Mayflower Compact, is now seen as one of the first forays into democracy on the North American continent.

In the Compact, the signers agree to bind themselves into a society to preserve order and to help further their aims. They agree to create offices, laws, and constitutions that will aid the common good. Finally, they agreed that such laws would be supreme and agreed to abide by them. In a nutshell, this is a classic embodiment of the Lockean idea of government (though it predates Locke), an idea carried on to what some consider its ultimate embodiment, the U.S. Constitution.

The original Compact is lost to history, but its text was recorded in 1622 in a book about the Pilgrims and the founding of the colony at Plimouth (now Plymouth), Massachusetts. The book, entitled Mourt's Relation: A Journal of the Pilgrims in Plymouth, was published in London.

Saturday Poetry

Matt Mason
Matt Mason

In Support Of A Ballot Measure Permitting Major
Political Candidates To Eat Their Young (1992)

I will do whatever it takes to be re-elected.
--George Bush

I
Wee Willy Clinton refueled his bus at the Casey's
down the road last week, every wave and word
creating unnatural frenzy. And Georgie-Porgie-
President-Pie kissed my ass
and made me cry, but when the boys
came out to play, it was Ross who ran away.
(AP Washington When rearranged, the letters in "George Herbert
Walker Bush" can spell "Huge, berserk, Rebel
Warthog." So far, the president has refused to
comment except to blame his opponents for
"negative campaigning.")

II
Larry Agran calmly waters his lawn,
speaks without a teleprompter, doesn't seek motes
in the political pasts of anyone.
He dressed for the party
but went to the wrong address (they
assure him).
Lenora and Andre show far less tolerance,
throwing popcorn at Larry King
as the leading three candidates pose like bachelors
on The Dating Game and promise
two thirty second spots in every hour
and a value on every family.
Their writers and coaches are state of the art,
veterans of Cold Wars and Cola Wars;
every inflection is artfully crafted for
we hold these truths to be self-evident
that all polls
are created equal.

III
And it is our duty,
one nation under
goddammit, Madonna wants me to vote,
Jesus hasn't endorsed anyone
(despite what the press releases claim) and no one
bothered to channel Elvis or take
an informal survey among the voting-age
members of New Kids On The Block
yet.

Saturday Poetry

Hilaire Belloc

1870 - 1953

October

Look, how those steep woods on the mountain's face
Burn, burn against the sunset; now the cold
Invades our very noon: the year's grown old,
Mornings are dark, and evenings come apace.
The vines below have lost their purple grace,
And in Forreze the white wrack backward rolled,
Hangs to the hills tempestuous, fold on fold,
And moaning gusts make desolate all the place.

Mine host the month, at thy good hostelry,
Tired limbs I'll stretch and steaming beast I'll tether;
Pile on great logs with Gascon hand and free,
And pour the Gascon stuff that laughs at weather;
Swell your tough lungs, north wind, no whit care we,
Singing old songs and drinking wine together.

Saturday Poetry

William Cullen Bryant

1794 - 1878

October

Aye, thou art welcome, heaven's delicious breath!
When woods begin to wear the crimson leaf,
And sons grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief,
And the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, 'mid bowers and brooks,
And dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men, as thou dost pass.

From http://www.bellaonline.com/articles/art46821.asp

William Cullen Bryant, most noted for his poem “Thanatopsis,” a study of death, also wrote numerous sonnets on nature. Born in Cummington, Massachusetts, November 3, 1794, Bryant was an early nature lover and much of his poetry focuses on nature subjects.

Bryant’s literary career had begun in his teens. He wrote and published a satirical poem titled “The Embargo” and several other poems when he was only thirteen. He wrote his most widely read poem, “Thanatopsis,” when he was only eighteen.

He moved to New York in 1825 and with a friend founded The New York Review, where he published many of his poems. His longest stint as an editor was at The Evening Post, where he served for over fifty years until his death. In addition to his editorial and literary efforts, Bryant joined in the political discussions of the day, offering clear-headed prose to his repertoire of works.

In 1832, Bryant published his first volume of poems and in 1852 his collection The Fountain and Other Poems appeared. When he was seventy-one years old, he began his translation of the Iliad which he completed in 1869; then he finished the Odyssey in 1871. When he was eighty-two, he wrote and published The Flood of Years, which remains his strongest work.

Bryant’s dedication to his literary career as well as to his homeland could not be emphasized any better than by the poet himself when he said, "We are not without the hope that those who read what we have written, will see in the past, with all its vicissitudes, the promise of a prosperous and honorable future, of concord at home, and peace and respect abroad; and that the same cheerful piety which leads the good man to put his personal trust in a kind Providence, will prompt the good citizen to cherish an equal confidence in regard to the destiny reserved for our beloved country."

Despite the shrill voices of many of today’s poets and political pundits who denigrate their country with their undisciplined art and polemics, Bryant’s hope has well been realized.

Saturday Poetry

Ellis Parker Butler
December 5, 1869 - September 13, 1937

October

The forest holds high carnival to-day,
And every hill-side glows with gold and fire;
Ivy and sumac dress in colors gay,
And oak and maple mask in bright attire.

The hoarded wealth of sober autumn days
In lavish mood for motley garb is spent,
And nature for the while at folly plays,
Knowing the morrow brings a snowy Lent.

From Ellis Parker Butler.info

Author of more than 30 books and more than 2,000 stories and essays, Ellis Parker Butler is most famous for his short story "Pigs is Pigs" in which a bureaucratic stationmaster insists on levying the livestock rate for a shipment of two pet guinea pigs that soon start proliferating geometrically.

Working from his home in Flushing (Queens) New York, Ellis Parker Butler was -- by every measure and by many times -- the most published author of the pulp fiction era.

His career spanned more than forty years and his stories, poems and articles were published in more than 225 magazines. His work appeared along side that of his contemporaries including Mark Twain, Sax Rohmer, James B. Hendryx, Berton Braley, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Don Marquis, Will Rogers and Edgar Rice Burroughs.

Despite the enormous volume of his work Ellis Parker Butler was, for most of his life, only a part-time author. He worked full-time as a banker and was very active in his local community. A founding member of both the Dutch Treat Club and the Author's League of America, Butler was an always-present force in the New York City literary scene.

Saturday Poetry

George Cooper
1838-1927

October's Party

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came-
The Chestnuts, Oaks, and Maples,
And leaves of every name.
The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses Maple
In scarlet looked their best;
All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

Then, in the rustic hollow,
At hide-and-seek they played,
The party closed at sundown,
And everybody stayed.
Professor Wind played louder;
They flew along the ground;
And then the party ended
In jolly "hands around."

Saturday Poetry

Jerry Lee Lewis

September 29, 1935 -

from http://www.metrolyrics.com/whole-lotta-shakin-goin-on-lyrics-jerry-lee-lewis.html

Whole Lotta Shaking Going On

Come over baby
whole lot of shakin' goin' on
Yes, I said come over baby
baby you can't go wrong
We ain't fakin'
Whole lot of shakin' goin' on

Well I said come over baby
we got chicken in the barn
oooh... huh..
Come over baby
babe we got the bull by the horn-a
We ain't fakin'
Whole lot of shakin' goin' on

Chorus

Well I said shake baby shake
I said shake baby shake
I said shake it baby shake it
I said shake baby shake
Come on over
Whole lot of shakin goin' on

Ahhhhh Let's Go !

Bridge

Well I said come over baby
we got chicken in the barn
Who's barn
what barn
my barn
Come over baby well, we got the bull by the horns
We ain't fakin'
Whole lot of shakin' goin' on

Easy Now (lower)
Shake it Ahhhh... Shake it babe
Yeah.... You can shake one time for me
Well I said come over baby
Whole lot of shakin' goin' on

Now lets get real low one time now
Shake baby shake
All you gotta honey is kinda stand in one spot
wiggle around just a little bit
thats what you gotta do yeah....
Oh babe whole lotta shakin' goin' on

Now let go one time

from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whole_Lotta_Shakin%27_Goin%27_On

"Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin On" (also rendered "Whole Lotta Shaking Going On") is a song best known in the 1957 rock and roll hit version by Jerry Lee Lewis.

Origins of the song

The origins of the song are disputed, but the writing is co-credited to Native American (Crow) / African American Kentuckian singer/songwriter Dave "Curlee" Williams, and white pianist, bandleader and songwriter James Faye "Roy" Hall (May 7, 1922 - March 2, 1984). Hall made the first recording of the song in September 1954 for Decca Records, and maintained that he had written it under the pseudonym of "Sunny David". However, a Decca sample copy of Hall's recording lists Dave Williams as the sole writer. Hall was also a Nashville club owner, who later claimed to have employed young piano player Jerry Lee Lewis at some point around 1954.

Hall's version was rapidly covered by Big Maybelle whose recording was produced by the young Quincy Jones, and by others including The Commodores (no relation to the '70s Motown group). However, none of these early recordings found much commercial success.

Jerry Lee Lewis version

Jerry Lee Lewis had been performing the song in his stage act, and recorded it at his second recording session for Sun Records, on May 27, 1957. Supervised by producer Jack Clement, Lewis radically altered the original, adding a propulsive boogie piano that was complemented by J.M. Van Eaton's energetic drumming, and also added suggestive spoken asides. Lewis later stated : "I knew it was a hit when I cut it. Sam Phillips thought it was gonna be too risqué, it couldn't make it. If that's risqué, well, I'm sorry."

In Lewis' autobiographical film, Lewis is shown spying in on Black American speak-easy type club, listening to Whole Lotta Shakin Goin' On by a Black female soloist. The next scene depicts Lewis using this song, discrediting the original artist.

Released as Sun 267, the record reached # 3 on the Billboard pop charts, # 1 on the R&B charts, # 1 on the country charts, and # 8 in the UK. Lewis became an instant sensation and, as writer Robert Gordon noted: "Jerry Lee began to show that in this new emerging genre called rock 'n' roll, not everybody was going to stand there with a guitar."

Jerry Lee Lewis's version of the song is ranked as the sixty-first greatest song of all time by Rolling Stone magazine. In 2005, it was selected for permanent preservation in the National Recording Registry at the Library of Congress.

Happy Birthday, Killer!