Poetry Page

[BarbStAubrey]

J.W. Waterhouse Famous Poets and Poems about Spring Link to: Spring Poems Discussion Leaders: Barb & fairanna

Join Us! For a Season of Spring Poetry A Prayer in Spring ~ Robert Frost        Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year. Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. And make us happy in the darting bird That suddenly above the bees is heard, The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, And off a blossom in mid air stands still. For this is love and nothing else is love, The which it is reserved for God above To sanctify to what far ends He will, But which it only needs that we fulfil.

[BarbStAubrey]

My Country

The love of field and coppice
Of green and shaded lanes,
Of ordered woods and gardens
Is running in your veins.
Strong love of grey-blue distance,
Brown streams and soft, dim skies
I know, but cannot share it,
My love is otherwise.

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror
The wide brown land for me!

The stark white ring-barked forests,
All tragic to the moon,
The sapphire-misted mountains,
The hot gold hush of noon,
Green tangle of the brushes
Where lithe lianas coil,
And orchids deck the tree-tops,
And ferns the warm dark soil.

Core of my heart, my country!
Her pitiless blue sky,
When, sick at heart, around us
We see the cattle die
But then the grey clouds gather,
And we can bless again
The drumming of an army,
The steady soaking rain.

Core of my heart, my country!
Land of the rainbow gold,
For flood and fire and famine
She pays us back threefold.
Over the thirsty paddocks,
Watch, after many days,
The filmy veil of greenness
That thickens as we gaze ...

An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land
All you who have not loved her,
You will not understand
though Earth holds many splendours,
Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

[JudeS]

Growing up in America all we knew of Australia was "Waltzing Matilda" and some song about a Kukaberry Tree.  Never found out what that was.
Now with all the wonderful Actors and Actresses from Australia it is becoming more well known. There is more news of Australia on line and yet I know only one great book and the movie made from it that became really famous.  "A Town Called Alice". Are there any recommendations from you Aussies for books or movies about your country?
I love the Australian poetry presented here also. I had never heard of any of those writers before reading them in this chatroom.

[BarbStAubrey]

Gotta have one about Texas now...  

Texas Poets
          ~ Boyce House

You write about bluebonnets—
In a land that knew Houston, hero fit for a Greek tragedy;
And about cottages nestling in honeysuckle—
Though there is the spot that saw Goliad’s massacre;
And about white poplars marching up a hill into the sunset—
When men and women face the drouth, the sand, the wind—
and somehow smile!

Texas!
With its pirates’ gold, its cattle-trails, its gun-fighters;
Its cotton fields, cornfields, wheat fields, and oil fields;
Its lonely canyons, carved by nature, in a forgotten land,
Newsboys waving “extras,”
Wrestlers throwing each other out of rings while pale—
Countenanced clerks shriek;
Clyde and Bonnie with blazing machine guns,
Farmer Jim and Ma Ferguson,
And seven million others doing things brave, foolish, amusing
or what-have-you!
And yet, Texas poets, you swoon when you behold a dew—
Drop enfolded by a rose!

His name once was a household word in Texas, but only a few know it today. He wrote 17 books -- more than J. Frank Dobie. He reported for and edited newspapers, regaled countless civic clubs and Chamber of Commerce banquets with Texas anecdotes, worked in Hollywood as technical consultant for a blockbuster movie starring Clark Gable, ran twice for lieutenant governor, wrote a column that ran in 200 newspapers, had a weekly radio show and was a member of the by-invitation-only Texas Institute of Letters.

Born in Piggott, Ark., in 1896 as the son of a country newspaper editor, House lived in Texas for several years and attended schools in Brownwood, Uvalde, Taylor and Alpine. When his father died, his mother moved to Memphis, Tenn., where House graduated from high school.

He came back to Texas in 1920 and wrote for or edited newspapers in the oil boom towns of Eastland, Cisco and Ranger and later worked for papers in Olney and Fort Worth. Married in 1927, he and his wife, Golda Fay, did not have children, House died in Fort Worth on Dec. 30, 1961.

House covered one of Texas biggest crime stories, the so-called Santa Claus bank robbery in Cisco on Dec. 23, 1927. He broke the story of "Old Rip" (for Rip Van Winkle), the horned toad that supposedly survived for 30 years sealed in the cornerstone of the Eastland County Courthouse.

His newspaper career in Eastland County coincided with one of Texas most prolific oil booms. At the height of the drilling activity, $1 million worth of oil gushed every 72 hours from wells around Ranger. House wrote four books that remain excellent sources of information on this wildcat period of early 20th-century Texas history

[BarbStAubrey]

French Quarter
          ~ Larry D. Thomas, 2008 Texas Poet Laureate

Below sea level, in night fog
thick as chicken and sausage gumbo, it looms,
this whole place a brick and concrete grave
adorned with Spanish and French iron,
a grisly Easter basket

wrapped in alternating bands
of green, gold, and purple cellophane
under which flicker the lights,
the ghastly lights of gas lamps and neon
every hue of the rainbow

illuming the ghostly faces
of voodooienne Marie Laveau
and the Saint Louis Cathedral
sticking its spires into night sky
like pins in a doll of voodoo, voodoo

whose rhythmic chants gave birth to jazz
in this glittering city of sin and Lent
forever gently nudged by the giant python
of the Mississippi, triumphant, tumescent,
and shining from its meal of mice and men.

[BarbStAubrey]

Whoops Jude you posted while I was writing and copying and pasting - just noticed your post - and  yes, what a thrill this is isn't it to learn first hand from folks who live in Australia more about the land, their towns and cities and their national poetry. Like all of us we admire the work of many poets but local  poets seem to capture something that rings true for us because we have seen or heard what it is they are writing about.

[roshanarose]

Jude - Gosh!  There must be hundred of movies I have seen, but my brain is in a blank phase.

Just a couple :

The Year My Voice Broke - Ben Mendelssohn (sp)

My Brilliant Career - Judy Davis, Sam Neill

Shine - Geoffrey Rush

Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith

Oscar and Lucinda - Ralph Fiennes and Cate Blanchett

First two of the Mad Max series - Mel Gibson - OK>  So I was a rev head .

Priscilla, Queen of the Desert - Hugo Weaving

Lantana - Vince Colosimo

Jindabyne - Laura Linney

Gumtree - I know you are going to come up with some lyrical, cerebral movies I have never heard of.  

I am trying to think of some less dramatic films, something lighter perhaps.  I personally prefer drama, and Australia makes good dramas.  "The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith" is a good example.  It was released in the 70s.  Fortunately, I got to see it in a theatre, because a week later it vanished.  I found out later because of the "theme" the movie had been banned by the Australian government censor due to its undesirable content, or some such crazy notion.  True, it is not for the faint hearted.  Thomas Keneally wrote the book.

Some wonderful poetry above.  Thanks.

[Gumtree]

Roshanarose:   I think that list of Aussie films is lyrical and cerebral enough for anyone   

Lantana - Vince Colosimo

and don't forget -Anthony LaPaglia

Only other film that jumps into my mind is The Getting of Wisdom

[Gumtree]

Jude: Someone else asked about Aussie writers in the Literary Games area only a couple of days ago - here's what I replied.

 

I always hesitate to 'recommend' an author as I find reading is such a personal occupation and so much depends on what type of reading you're after.
 If you want a quintessential colonial Australian classic novel try Henry Handel Richardson's The Fortunes of Richard Mahony or the more harrowing Marcus Clarke For the Term of His Natural Life

Here's a few of today's crop - Thomas Kenneally Peter Carey, David Malouf, Geraldine Brooks, Kate Grenville, Elizabeth Jolley, Thea Astley, Murray Bail, Robert Dessaix, Michelle de Kretzer, Drusilla Modjeska, Tim Winton, Shirley Hazzard, Helen Garner, Richard Flanagan, Marcus Zusak.

Older writers: Christina Stead, Miles Franklin, Eleanor Dark, Xavier Herbert, D'arcy Niland, Morris West, Randolph Stow, George Johnston, Neville Shute, Coral Lansbury (Angela's cousin), Kylie Tennant.

There's always our Nobel prizewinner, Patrick White - and another South African now naturalised Aussie and Nobel winner, J.M. Coetzee.

I suppose I'd better mention Colleen McCullough - one I love to hate.

Then we have Clive James, Germaine Greer and and and...

 Most of those mentioned are fundamentally novelists but we have many others  worth reading - poets and diarists, essayists, biographers, historians - the list is endless.   

[Gumtree]

Barbara - thanks for posting those Australian poems. John Shaw Neilsen is one of our most respected poets of his era.
 Dorothea Mackellar's My Country is an icon among our literature - every child learns it a fairly young age - I think I posted it here some time back - so good to see it again. She wrote it when living in England as a young woman and very homesick for her country.
I don't know anything about H Duncan Hall - totally unfamiliar. I googled for him but couldn't get anything biographical.

[Gumtree]

Growing up in America all we knew of Australia was "Waltzing Matilda" and some song about a Kukaberry Tree.  Never found out what that was.

Jude Waltzing Matilda is one of our national songs - written by Andrew Barton (Banjo) Paterson who was one of our foremost poets of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The rivalry between Paterson and his contemporary Henry Lawson is well documented. They had vastly different temperaments which is obvious from a study of their poetry.

Kukaberry Tree You surely must mean the Girl Guides song, Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree. These days it is taught in schools but I think  I was out of school before it was written - still, it is well known. A kookaburra is an Australian bird of the kingfisher species - it has a wonderful song which sounds like anything from a slow chortle to a deep throated, full blooded belly laugh and all stages in between- they're often referred to as the 'laughing jackass' and they are a beautiful bird - we have pairs nesting nearby which frequently come into the garden especially when I'm pottering out there - they hope for a juicy worm of two in my rose beds and perch on the fences or clothesline just waiting their chances.

[Gumtree]

And one last comment -

 roshanarose - The Chant of Jimmy Blacksmith was a good film but I think it is a better book. Well worth the read - some descriptions of the bush and the settlers live's are superb - Kenneally also captures something of the aboriginal ethos - realism was perhaps his forte.

Barbara Thanks for letting us talk about things Australian. I appreciate it as I'm sure do Octavia and Roshanarose. It's great to share with the posters here and perhaps give back a little.

[BarbStAubrey]

OK folks I am going to try and find the movies you have recommended on Amazon - the US version of Amazon so that at least we have a bit more info and if we want to locate them in Netflex or something we can - personally I do not use Netflex and so I may break down and buy a used copy on one of these movies from time to time - OK I found a few others and have added them to the list... hope they are worthy of  your  recommendations...

Getting of Wisdom VHS

The Year My Voice Broke 1989 VHS

My Brilliant Career

Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith (1977)

Walkabout - Criterion Collection (1971)

The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert (Extra Frills Edition) (1994)

The Man From Snowy River (1982)

Shine (1996)

Jindabyne (2006)

Lantana (2001)

Rabbit-Proof Fence (2002)

Oscar & Lucinda [VHS] (1997)

Mary and Max (2009)

Oyster Farmer (2004)

Ben Folds and Waso: Live in Perth

Ned Kelly: The True Story Of Australia's Most Legendary Outlaw.

The Lighthorsemen (Import) (1985)

[Gumtree]

Barbara - a better Ned Kelly film was one which starred Heath Ledger - can't remember the title - probably just Ned Kelly Gang?

Trivia: Did you know that the first full length feature film EVER made ANYWHERE was made in Australia in 1906 and was about Ned Kelly?

Haven't heard of Ben Folds - guess he's a pop star playing with our local symphony orchestra WASO

[JudeS]

Thank you, thank you for all your suggestions. I will be reading some of the books and seeing some of the suggested movies if NETFLIX carries them.
Actually I did see and enjoy two of the movies: Shine and Priscilla , Queen of the Desert. Both had such universal themes that I didn't think of them as Australian .
I also knew of some of the authors but never knew they were Australian except for Marcus Zusak.

Gumtree;
 Very interesting about the Kookaburra bird. Wish I could see one in your garden.

How delightful to hear you Aussies share some of your culture with us. I'm glad I asked.

[roshanarose]

Hi Jude - There is a story about the kookaburra that begs to be told.  According to Australian folklore they are one of the very few Australian creatures that are not afraid of snakes and actually make a meal of them whenever they can.  Their method of killing the snake is rather unique.  The kookaburra as it flies, sees the snake from on high, swoops and grabs it behind its head.  The kookaburra then soars to a great height and drops the snake on rocks below, swoops and grabs it again, and then drops the snake on rocks again.  After the kookaburra is satisfied the snake is dead and nicely pulverised it devours the snake. 

Every morning when I wake I hear the beautiful warbling song of the magpie; the harsh and plaintive cry of the crow; the laughter of the kookaburra, which according to Aboriginal legend   heralds a change in the weather; and the screech of the sulphur-crested cockatoos that frequent my area.  There are a myriad of other bird calls that I have yet to identify.  If my cat sleeps with her chin up, I am almost certain the weather will change as well. A pretty accurate barometer, I have found.

Do our American cousins have similar bird tales?

[Babi]

 BARB, I added the link to my 'Favorites'.  And thanks for
the instructions; my initial attempt wasn't working. I think
I have the idea now.

 The Anne Wilson poem is lovely. I put in a moment or two
reading parts of it out loud.  On the second poem, I ran into
an old problem. Use of "O", and 'thou' and 'whither' always
seems so out of place to me in a poem of more modern date. I
always feel I'm reading at attempt to imitate someone else.

 McKellar, now, definitely has a voice of her own. Thanks so
much for that one.

Texas!
With its pirates’ gold, its cattle-trails, its gun-fighters;
Its cotton fields, cornfields, wheat fields, and oil fields;
Its lonely canyons, carved by nature, in a forgotten land That does encapsulate the Texas of the stories, doesn't it?

 I've only heard of three of those movies before.  I do hope some of
them are on Netflix.

[BarbStAubrey]

Well back to reversing the seasons from Australia's fall like days to the Spring north of the equator. These are anonymous Japanese poems from the 8th century - from the time of Emperor Shomu (724-49)  all except the first poem which was written during the reigh of Emperor Uda ( 867 – July 19, 931)

Seeing the fields burnt before the new crop was planted, Ise, consort of Emperor Uda, wrote

    If I consider
    My body like the fields
    Withered by winter,
    Can I hope, though I am burnt,
    That spring will come again?

 Anonymous, Plum blossoms are an outer proof of life's inner beauty in this spring poem

    I am at a loss
    To say to whom if not to you
    I might show plum blossoms;
    For such beauty and such fragrance
    Only the best judge is a judge at all.

Anonymous, eighth century collection of poems called Man'Yoshu:

    That you like me not
    It may well be --
    Yet will you not come
    Even to see the orange tree
    Abloom in my dooryard?

The importance of spring blossoms - Emperor Shomu (724-49) ordered the construction of the Temple of the Dharma Blossom (Hokkeji), the main temple of all provincial nunneries, which contains this symbol of an ever renewing life, both spiritual and material.

    When they bloom they fall
    When they do not bloom we yearn
    For mountain cherry flowers .

From the Preface of Kokenshu.: The poetry of Japan takes the human heart as seed and flourishes in the countless leaves of words. Poetry is created following the cyclic patterns of nature or of the cosmos. From its source, the human heart, it flourishes like spring blossoms. In speaking about the human heart, we can conceive it as the poet's organ of emotions and feelings of warmth -- from it the words and poems radiate. We can also see the heart as the core or essence of man or humanity. We have unfolded from the seed which is our inner core; likewise, the words and sentences of Japan's poets have unfolded as the expressions of "the meditations of their hearts."

 

[BarbStAubrey]

Time for Irish poets and the best of the best must include Yeats -

Another Song Of A Fool
          ~ by William Butler Yeats

This great purple butterfly,
In the prison of my hands,
Has a learning in his eye
Not a poor fool understands.

Once he lived a schoolmaster
With a stark, denying look;
A string of scholars went in fear
Of his great birch and his great book.

Like the clangour of a bell,
Sweet and harsh, harsh and sweet.
That is how he learnt so well
To take the roses for his meat.

[Octavia]

That's a lovely Yeats Barbara, "Sweet and harsh, harsh and sweet"-Perfect.
My favourite of the Japanese, is the one with the orange tree.
Reading about Texas, I thought about the inherent beauty of a landscape. No matter what happens on the surface, wars, earthquakes, floods, the land just goes on, keeps its own counsel, and just is,.....immutable.
This is one of Norman MacCaig's, another Scot.

Toad - by Norman MacCaig

Stop looking like a purse. How could a purse
Squeeze under the rickety door and sit,
Full of satisfaction in a man’s house?

You clamber towards me on your four corners –
Right hand, left foot, left hand, right foot.

I love you for being a toad,
For crawling like a Japanese wrestler,
And for not being frightened

I put you in my purse hand not shutting it,
And set you down outside directly under
Every star.

A jewel in your head? Toad,
You’ve put one in mine,
A tiny radiance in a dark place

[BarbStAubrey]

What a delight Octavia - precious - ha uh -

                             And set you down outside directly under
Every star.

A jewel in your head?

                                       And then the last line makes it...

              A tiny radiance in a dark place

I found this while browsing tonight - and oldie but ah so lovely we never tire of past wonders.

She Walks In Beauty
          by Lord Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

[Babi]

 BARB,  Roshana mentioned in the Library (?) a book by Robert Graves, called "The White Goddess".  I found this description: 'The White Goddess is perhaps the finest of Robert Graves's works on the psychological and mythological sources of poetry. "  Naturally, I thought of you.
You may already know this book, but if not it sounds like something you would enjoy.

[BarbStAubrey]

t hanks Babi - you are so right - I found it on Amazon and have it in my list for the future
White Goddess

[Octavia]

Wow, Lord Byron's, She Walks In Beauty, takes me right back to High School. Grade 12, hot and sweaty afternoons, tugging at our ties(I don't think we even had fans in the 60's) and Mrs Chapman reading Byron. It was in our set poetry book.
The girls were enchanted by the words, and the boys were probably dreaming of cricket or footy.
Those were the days!

[BarbStAubrey]

Exclusion -  XIII.
          ~ - Emily Dickinson

The soul selects her own society,
Then shuts the door;
On her divine majority
Obtrude no more.

Unmoved, she notes the chariot's pausing
At her low gate;
Unmoved, an emperor is kneeling
Upon her mat.
 
I've known her from an ample nation
Choose one;
Then close the valves of her attention
Like stone.

[BarbStAubrey]

I always looked upon
the acts of racist exclusion, or insult, as
pitiable, from the other person.
I never absorbed that.
I always thought that there was something
deficient about such people.
          ~ Toni Morrison

I have a great interest in a number of things, perhaps too many.
I admire people who seem to concentrate on only one fixed discipline
to the exclusion of almost everything else.
          ~ Tom Glazer

[BarbStAubrey]

"It’s important to recognize
expanding
the circle of opportunity
increasing
the democratic potential
of our own society, as well as
those across the world,
is a continuing process of
inclusion."
          ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton

"Inclusion is a process of
 identifying, understanding and breaking down barriers
to participation and belonging."


"Real development cannot take root
on a sustainable basis, unless
it is inclusive of women."
          ~ President Pratibha Patil, India

[BarbStAubrey]

"I'm nobody! Who are you?"
          ~ by Emily Dickinson

   I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

[Babi]

 Ah, thanks, I was just perfectly in the mood for Emily Dickinson this morning. I also
enjoyed the quotes from Tony Morrison and Hillary Clinton. Clinton is so right...it is
inclusion that will take us from 'one nation' to 'one world'.

[Octavia]

Absolutely Babi, the last pamphlets I got from Care Australia were about the education of girls and mothers being just as important as that of boys and men.
What a lovely selection Barbara. Coming here is like the Quiz of the Day, we never know what delight we'll find .

[BarbStAubrey]

There is talk of Spring flowers in another discussion - specifically the lilac was last mentioned which immediately our thoughts turn to Whitman - but my word - that is one of the longest poems without being an Epic to the Lilac and so I am not regaling you with "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" - And then Amy Lowell also has a poem about Lilacs - however, it too goes on and on, forever - these folks sure have a lot to say about Lilacs - and so no Lilacs - let's go with Tulips - now that is a nice neat upright flower that seems to inspire a poem that can be read in under 30 minutes.  

Tulips
          ~ by A.E. Stallings

The tulips make me want to paint,
Something about the way they drop
Their petals on the tabletop
And do not wilt so much as faint,

Something about their burnt-out hearts,
Something about their pallid stems
Wearing decay like diadems,
Parading finishes like starts,

Something about the way they twist
As if to catch the last applause,
And drink the moment through long straws,
And how, tomorrow, they’ll be missed.

The way they’re somehow getting clearer,
The tulips make me want to see—
The tulips make the other me
(The backwards one who’s in the mirror,

The one who can’t tell left from right),
Glance now over the wrong shoulder
To watch them get a little older
And give themselves up to the light.

[Babi]

 A different look at flowers, there.  Fading away, instead of glorious new bloom.  A more original
viewpoint.
  Now here's an oldie, not about flowers, but perhaps about contentment, by Alexander Pope.

 SOLITUDE
  
  Happy the man whose wish and care
     a few paternal acres bound.
     Content to breathe his native air
          In his own ground.

 Whose herds with mild, whose fields with bread
   Whose flocks supply him with attire;
  Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
         In winter, fire;

  Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
   Hours, day, and years slide soft away
   In health of body, peace of mind,
           Quiet by day;

  Sound sleep by night; study and ease
   Together mixt, sweet recreation,
  And innocence, which most does please
             With meditation.

   Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
     Thus unlamented let me die;
     Steal from the world , and not a stone
           Tell where I lie.
  
  

[BarbStAubrey]

Never thought of it this way but oh so true...

Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
         In winter, fire;

Here is another about Contentment.

Contentment
          ~ by William Cowper

      (Phillipians, iv.11)

Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.

In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.

Since at His feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.

"Art thou a sinner, soul?" He said,
"Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!

"If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine!
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.

"'Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.

"In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away."

Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learnt to be conten

[BarbStAubrey]

Everybody, Fairanna has posted in the Classics Bulletin Board:

MY ACCIDENT HAS MADE ME AN A HANDICAPPED Person I would appreciate hearing from you at Anna Alexander at my home address 207 Dominion Dr. Newport News VA 23602 any suggestions and ideas Thank you     love Anna

[fairanna]

Hello please email me fairanna at cox.net I don't see one of how to make the mark that makes those that connect a  whatever PLEASE  JOAN SEND ME YOUR ADDRESS I LOST MY ADDRESS BOOK THAT IS JOAN KRAFT

[JoanK]

OK, Anna,I'm on it. Let me know if you don't get it.

[Babi]

I've always been one to prefer 'calm, content and peace'.  It not only works best for me,
it's a lot easier on those around me.

 ANNA, I've updated my contacts list with the address you give here.  I believe you have my address.  If not, just click on my name on the post; it should be in my profile.  Do let me know
what kind of handicaps..other than the poor eyesight.. you now have.  I don't know if I will have
anything to offer, but I certainly want to help if I can.

[BarbStAubrey]

All overgrown by cunning moss
          ~ by Emily Dickinson

All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of “Currer Bell”
In quiet “Haworth” laid.

This Bird – observing others
When frosts too sharp became
Retire to other latitudes –
Quietly did the same –

But differed in returning –
Since Yorkshire hills are green –
Yet not in all the nests I meet –
Can Nightingale be seen –

Currer Bell pen name for Charlotte Brontë, April 1816 – March 1855, English novelist and poet, the eldest of the three Brontë sisters, who, using the pseudonym Currer Bell wrote Jane Eyre.  .

Haworth is a rural village in the City of Bradford metropolitan borough of West Yorkshire, England, Home of the Brontë sisters.

[BarbStAubrey]

        LINES COMPOSED IN A WOOD ON A WINDY DAY

        by: Anne Bronte (1820-1849)
              - Reprinted from Poems By Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, pseudonyms used by the three Bronte sisters.

            MY soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring
            And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
            For above and around me the wild wind is roaring,
            Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.

            The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing,
            The bare trees are tossing their branches on high;
            The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing,
            The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky

            I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing
            The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray;
            I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing,
            And hear the wild roar of their thunder to-day!

[BarbStAubrey]

High waving heather, 'neath stormy blasts bending
          ~ Emily Bronte (December 13, 1836)

High waving heather, 'neath stormy blasts bending,
Midnight and moonlight and bright shining stars;
Darkness and glory rejoicingly blending,
Earth rising to heaven and heaven descending,
Man's spirit away from its drear dongeon sending,
Bursting the fetters and breaking the bars.

All down the mountain sides, wild forest lending
One mighty voice to the life-giving wind;
Rivers their banks in the jubilee rending,
Fast through the valleys a reckless course wending,
Wider and deeper their waters extending,
Leaving a desolate desert behind.

Shining and lowering and swelling and dying,
Changing for ever from midnight to noon;
Roaring like thunder, like soft music sighing,
Shadows on shadows advancing and flying,
Lightning-bright flashes the deep gloom defying,
Coming as swiftly and fading as soon.