Only in darkness is thy shadow clear

=0=0=0=

G o t h i c   S p l e n d o r   R e q u i t e d

Brooklyn Bridge

Brooklyn, New York

=0=0=0=

How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest
The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him,
Shedding white rings of tumult, building high
Over the chained bay waters Liberty --

Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our eyes
As apparitional as sails that cross
Some page of figures to be filed away;
-- Till elevators drop us from our day ...

I think of cinemas, panoramic sleights
With multitudes bent toward some flashing scene
Never disclosed, but hastened to again,
Foretold to other eyes on the same screen;

And Thee, across the harbor, silver-paced
As though the sun took step of thee, yet left
Some motion ever unspent in thy stride, --
Implicitly thy freedom staying thee!

Out of some subway scuttle, cell or loft
A bedlamite speeds to thy parapets,
Tilting there momently, shrill shirt ballooning,
A jest falls from the speechless caravan.

Down Wall, from girder into street noon leaks,
A rip-tooth of the sky's acetylene;
All afternoon the cloud-flown derricks turn ...
Thy cables breathe the North Atlantic still.

And obscure as that heaven of the Jews,
Thy guerdon ... Accolade thou dost bestow
Of anonymity time cannot raise:
Vibrant reprieve and pardon thou dost show.

O harp and altar, of the fury fused,
(How could mere toil align thy choiring strings!)
Terrific threshold of the prophet's pledge,
Prayer of pariah, and the lover's cry, --

Again the traffic lights that skim thy swift
Unfractioned idiom, immaculate sigh of stars,
Beading thy path-condense eternity:
And we have seen night lifted in thine arms.

Under thy shadow by the piers I waited;
Only in darkness is thy shadow clear.
The City's fiery parcels all undone,
Already snow submerges an iron year ...

O Sleepless as the river under thee,
Vaulting the sea, the prairies' dreaming sod,
Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend
And of the curveship lend a myth to God.

= Hart Crane =

=0=0=0=

Happy Wednesday

Rooted in one dear perpetual place

=0=0=0=

D a g g y b u g

Columbia, South Carolina

=0=0=0=

May she be granted beauty and yet not

Beauty to make a stranger's eye distraught,

Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,

Being made beautiful overmuch,

Consider beauty a sufficient end,

Lose natural kindness and maybe

The heart-revealing intimacy

That chooses right, and never find a friend.

In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;

Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned

By those that are not entirely beautiful;

Yet many, that have played the fool

For beauty's very self, has charm made wise,

And many a poor man that has roved,

Loved and thought himself beloved,

From a glad kindness cannot take his eyes.

May she become a flourishing hidden tree

That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,

And have no business but dispensing round

Their magnanimities of sound,

Nor but in merriment begin a chase,

Nor but in merriment a quarrel.

O may she live like some green laurel

Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

And may her bridegroom bring her to a house

Where all's accustomed, ceremonious;

For arrogance and hatred are the wares

Peddled in the thoroughfares.

How but in custom and in ceremony

Are innocence and beauty born?

Ceremony's a name for the rich horn,

And custom for the spreading laurel tree.

=0=0=0=

from A Prayer for my Daughter

= William Butler Yeats =

=0=0=0=

Happy Tuesday

Shadows long before me lie

=0=0=0=

A n d r e w ' s   O u t r i g g e r

Island of Guam, US Territory

=0=0=0=

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar,

I'll find the heavens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle Earth at last.

I see the star above my mast!

= J.R.R. Tolkien =

=0=0=0=

Happy Monday

He shines in all that's fair

=0=0=0=

W a s   B l i n d   B u t   N o w   I   S e e

Aimwell Cemetery

Ridgeway, South Carolina

=0=0=0=

This is my Father's world

And to my list'ning ears

All nature sings, and round me rings

The music of the spheres.

This is my Father's world

I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas

His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world

The birds their carols raise

The morning light, the lily white

Declare their Maker's praise.

This is my Father's world

He shines in all that's fair

In the rustling grass I hear Him pass

He speaks to me ev'rywhere.

This is my Father's world

O let me ne'er forget

That though the wrong seems oft so strong

God is the Ruler yet.

This is my Father's world

The battle is not done

Jesus who died shall be satisfied

And earth and Heav'n be one.

= Maltbie Davenport Babcock =

=0=0=0=

Can any hide himself in secret places

that I shall not see him? saith the LORD.

Do not I fill heaven and earth? saith the LORD.

Jeremiah 23:24

=0=0=0=

Happy Sunday

With a tomorrow knocking

=0=0=0=

P e a c e   b y   P e a c e

Aimwell Cemetery

Ridgeway, South Carolina

=0=0=0=

Rather arid delight

If Contentment accrue

Make an abstemious Ecstasy

Not so good as joy --

But Rapture's Expense

Must not be incurred
With a tomorrow knocking

And the Rent unpaid --

= Emily Dickinson =

=0=0=0=

Happy Saturday