Sunday, December 20, 2009

Déjà vu


Friday, December 18, 2009

Que sera sera




Childhood
by George William Russell
HOW I could see through and through you!
So unconscious, tender, kind,
More than ever was known to you
Of the pure ways of your mind.

We who long to rest from strife
Labour sternly as a duty;
But a magic in your life
Charms, unknowing of its beauty.

We are pools whose depths are told;
You are like a mystic fountain,
Issuing ever pure and cold
From the hollows of the mountain.

We are men by anguish taught
To distinguish false from true;
Higher wisdom we have not;
But a joy within guides you.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Masalama



Sand Dunes
Robert Frost

Sea waves are green and wet,
But up from where they die,
Rise others vaster yet,
And those are brown and dry.

They are the sea made land
To come at the fisher town,
And bury in solid sand
The men she could not drown.

She may know cove and cape,
But she does not know mankind
If by any change of shape,
She hopes to cut off mind.

Men left her a ship to sink:
They can leave her a hut as well;
And be but more free to think
For the one more cast-off shell.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Come watch the Shadow Play

Three friends



Welcome to Rosanna! You left kind comments and made me very happy! Thank you.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Out of rock

Pointe Claire

Freezing Day

Friday, November 27, 2009

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Lean to

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Ugly fella

Tucked in

sea_ bird

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Friday, September 25, 2009

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Monday, September 21, 2009

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

When I cross the bar



Crossing the Bar
Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Sunday, September 13, 2009

'And the door stood open at our feast'




UNWELCOME
Mary Coleridge

We were young, we were merry, we were very very wise,
And the door stood open at our feast,
When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

O, still grew the hearts that were beating so fast,
The loudest voice was still.
The jest died away on our lips as they passed,
And the rays of July struck chill.

The cups of red wine turned pale on the board,
The white bread black as soot.
The hound forgot the hand of her lord,
She fell down at his foot.

Low let me lie, where the dead dog lies,
Ere I sit me down again at a feast,
When there passes a woman with the West in her eyes,
And a man with his back to the East.

Final Performance



Who Has Seen the Wind?

by Christina Rossetti

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you;
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I;
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.

Hark! Who goes there?



UPHILL

by: Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

DOES the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.

But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.

Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.

Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labour you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.

May the friends never fall out...

Take me home

Saturday, September 12, 2009