Today on Huffington Post somebody put the poem Ozymandias in the comments. It's a wonderful old poem by Percy B Shelly and I thought maybe it would be nice to post a couple of poems for tonight's inspiration, so I'm sharing Ozymandias and another favorite poem of mine by Tennyson called Ulysses. And of course a ridiculous number of photos. I know a wiser woman would just post a few, but I'm indulging myself with this even though my inner mother is really disapproving. I have a hard time choosing so I just post a lot. My blog, my rules. My apologies. The yard was generous again, but with a limited range of visitors. A couple of newbies, though, which was lovely. Those so inclined can click on the photos to see them larger. I had an awful time with formatting the poems. It took forever and several re-typings of the 2nd one, so I hope they stay formatted and I really hope you read them.
I MET a Traveler from an antique land,
Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings."
Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!
No thing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Alfred,Lord Tennyson : Ulysses
It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
This my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles5, whom we knew
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
|There were quite a few bees today at least a half dozen, maybe more. |
This is awesome good news.
|This is a brown thrasher who showed up towards|
sunset. Every so often a photo comes out looking
like a watercolor as this one did. I think that's cool.
|This crow was VERY VERY far away. He must be HUGE.|
|A lady Baltimore Oriole... not quite so flashy as the male.|
|Most people would be ashamed of a yard that looks|
like this, but I love all the weeds and color. Sad/happy
to report it was mowed about an hour after I took this photo.
Some things I'm grateful for today: (Items in red are pre-gratitude, an effort to convince the creative forces of the Universe that they really, really, should bring me a truckload of money and other good things.... right away, since I have already said thank you repeatedly.)
- Angel and Tara Grace
- my house
- my back yard
- bird feeders
- my camera
- my computer
- self indulgence
- the internet
- the colors of the rainbow
- the telephone
- Dr. Jim
- my friends
- my nieces, my nephew and their families
- open windows
- my microwave
- peach/mango yogurt smoothies
- computer games
- my back yard
- my back door
- coffee and International Delight
- more flowers in my back yard
- a truckload of money
- $5,000/week for life from PCH
- zero balance on my credit cards
- a clothes dryer
- winning lottery numbers
- freshly painted living and bedroom walls
- a sun room on the back of the house
- a Bose sound system
- paid off mortgage
- my TV
- the remote control
- reasonably pain free days
- the ability to read and write
- the ability to type
- indoor plumbing
- my Tibetan salt lamps
Have a Glorious Day
May You Be Joyfully Unyielding