Books, plays and poems.

[dulcinea]

.

The Frog and the Golden Ball She let her golden ball fall down the well And begged a cold frog to retrieve it; For which she kissed his ugly, gaping mouth - Indeed, he could scarce believe it. And seeing him transformed to his princely shape, Who had been by hags enchanted, She knew she could never love another man Nor by any fate be daunted. But what would her royal father and mother say? They had promised her in marriage To a cousin whose wide kingdom marched with theirs, Who rode in a jeweled carriage. 'Our plight, dear heart, would appear past human hope To all except you and me: to all Who have never swum as a frog in a dark well Or have lost a golden ball.' 'What then shall we do now?' she asked her lover. He kissed her again, and said: 'Is magic of love less powerful at your Court Than at this green well-head?' Robert Graves

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[Pooka]

"The Girl Aviators on Golden Wings"

Margaret Burnham

[dulcinea]

...since no one will ever feed me a line on ithaka, i make it a golden stop on this thread's journey... ITHAKA Constantine P. Cavafy As you set out for Ithaka hope your road is a long one, full of adventure, full of discovery. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, angry Poseidon - don't be afraid of them: you'll never find things like that one on your way as long as you keep your thoughts raised high, as long as a rare excitement stirs your spirit and your body. Laistrygonians, Cyclops, wild Poseidon - you won't encounter them unless you bring them along inside your soul, unless your soul sets them up in front of you. Hope your road is a long one. May there be many summer mornings when, with what pleasure, what joy, you enter harbours you're seeing for the first time; may you stop at Phoenician trading stations to buy fine things, mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony, sensual perfumes of every kind - as many sensual perfumes as you can; and may you visit many Egyptian cities to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

..

Keep Ithaka always in your mind. Arriving there is what you're destined for. But don't hurry the journey at all. Better if it lasts for years, so you're old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you've gained on the way, not expecting Ithaka to make you rich. Ithaka gave you the marvellous journey. Without her you wouldn't have set out. She has nothing left to give you now. And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you. Wise as you will have become, so full of experience, you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

[sea horse]

dulcinea said:

...since no one will ever feed me a line on ithaka, i make it a golden stop on this thread's journey... ITHAKA Constantine P. Cavafy

A 'golden stop on ... journey' may be the right term, because some conclude "How dull it is to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use" and call out "Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world", as you can read below.

Ulysses - Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged 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 enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext 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 honour'd 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 wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' 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 gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,---
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.

Most blameless is he, centred 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 toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me ---
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 Achilles, whom we knew.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
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.


Nor was James Joyce's Ithaca such a great place to stay.



Yours looks much more delightful.

[dulcinea]

thank you for this lovely contribution...

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.

... and yes i am part of you too...

[dulcinea]

p.s. i just discovered that you log in as urchin... when i have been posting occasionally as sea urchin.... now that i know, i shall not do it again (although i possibly was a sea urchin before you joined)...

[sea horse]

dulcinea said:

p.s. i just discovered that you log in as urchin... when i have been posting occasionally as sea urchin.... now that i know, i shall not do it again (although i possibly was a sea urchin before you joined)...

I hadn't noticed this coincidence; I don't read every post, thus don't notice every occasional poster (e.g. sea urchin). I'm sorry for any confusion, consternation, or contravention.

Sea urchins have lovely colours and curved shapes (and their sharp spines also have a definite appeal, I'm sure you'll agree).
But after briefly considering it as board name, my train of thought led me to think sea horse would be more appropriate for me as board name, and this type of urchin as login name.

[Upsetter]

From childhood's hour I have not been As others were - I have not seen As others saw - I could not bring My passions from a common spring From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone Then - in my childhood - in the dawn Of a most stormy life - was drawn From ev'ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain From the sun that 'round me roll'd In its autumn tint of gold - From the lighting in the sky As it pass'd me flying by - From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that look the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.

[Benbow]

upsetter said:

From childhood's hour I have not been As others were - I have not seen As others saw - I could not bring My passions from a common spring From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone Then - in my childhood - in the dawn Of a most stormy life - was drawn From ev'ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain From the sun that 'round me roll'd In its autumn tint of gold - From the lighting in the sky As it pass'd me flying by - From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that look the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.

Hey - Upsetter, that was quite lovely and quite unexpected. Didn't know you were an E. A. P. fan.

Ps - you're forgiven for shooting me in the arse.

[Pooka]

Could someone please tell me where we are at... are we working with 'Ulysses' here, or am I missing something after that?

[dulcinea]

Midsummer, Tobago Derek Walcott Broad sun-stoned beaches. White heat. A green river. A bridge, scorched yellow palms from the summer-sleeping house drowsing through August. Days I have held, days I have lost, days that outgrow, like daughters, my harbouring arms.

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[Nurse Duckett]

Ursula,

[Nurse Duckett]

Robert Graves: Symptoms of Love

Love is a universal migraine,
A bright stain on the vision
Blotting out reason.

Symptoms of true love
Are leanness, jealousy,
Laggard dawns;

Are omens and nightmares -
Listening for a knock,
Waiting for a sign:

For a touch of her fingers
In a darkened room,
For a searching look.

Take courage lover!
Could you endure such grief
At any hand but hers?
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[Benbow]

Those Who Don't Feel This Love

Those who don't feel this Love
pulling them like a river,
those who don't drink dawn
like a cup of spring water
or take in sunset like supper,
those who don't want to change,

let them sleep.

This Love is beyond the study of theology,
that old trickery and hypocrisy.
I you want to improve your mind that way,

sleep on.

I've given up on my brain.
I've torn the cloth to shreds
and thrown it away.

If you're not completely naked,
wrap your beautiful robe of words
around you,

and sleep


Rumi

[Pooka]

"Those Who Trespass"
Dan Masterson