Some reckon their age by years,
Some measure their life by art;
But some tell their days by the flood of their tears,
And their lives by the moans of their heart.
The dials of earth may show
The length, not the depth, of years–
Few or many they come, few or many they go,
But time is best measured by tears.
Ah! not by the silver gray
That creeps through the sunny hair,
And not by the scenes that we pass on our way,
And not by the furrows the fingers of care
On forehead and face have made,–
Not so do we count our years;
Not by the sun of the earth, but the shade
Of our souls, and the fall of our tears.
For the young are oft-times old,
Though their brows be bright and fair;
While their blood beats warm, their hearts are cold–
O’er them the spring–but winter is there;
And the old are oft-times young
When their hair is thin and white;
And they sing in age, as in youth they sung,
And they laugh, for their cross was light.
But, bead by bead, I tell
The rosary of my tears;
From a cross to a cross they lead; ’tis well,
And they’re blessed with a blessing of tears.
Better a day of strife
Than a century of sleep;
Give me intead of a long stream of life
The tempests and tears of the deep.
A thousand joys may foam
On the billows of all the years;
But never the foam brings the lone back home,–
He reaches the haven through tears.
~Abram Joseph Ryan~
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
No Will-o’-th’-Wisp mis-light thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.
Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number.
Then Julia let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet
Thy silv’ry feet,
My soul I’ll pour into thee.
The Holocaust is remembered in Israel with ceremonies yesterday continuing into today…
………..I have not entirely lost my faith in mankind………………………. I have tried to carry out the mandate given to me by the many fellow internees at Auschwitz who perished so horribly. This is my memorial to them. God rest their poor souls! No hell anyone could conceive could equal what they endured. from the novel Five Chimneys by ~Olga Lengyel~ it is the true chronicle of a woman who survived the Nazi extermination camp at Auschwitz.
One night we were awakened by terrifying cries. And we discovered, on the following day, from the men working the Sonder-Kommando…that on the preceding day, the gas supply having run out, they had thrown the children into the furnaces alive. ~Marie Vaillant~ a prisoner in Auschwitz
The cemetery is in our heart. from the novel Night by ~Elie Wiesel~
Ironically, the horrors of war have taught me that there are things that are worse than war and against them determined and careful war should be waged, in the name of the innocent and the weak. ~Ed Vulliamy~
Today in Rome, two former Popes were declared Saints. Karol Jozef Wojtyla, Pope John Paul II, is credited with curing a French nun with Parkinson’s disease and a Costa Rican woman with an aneurysm in 2011. Angelo Roncalli, Pope John XXIII, is recognized for the 1966 healing of an Italian nun dying from a stomach hemorrhage…
…each human being – at every stage of existence, from conception to natural death – is endowed by the Creator with a sublime dignity that demands the greatest respect and vigilance on the part of individuals, communities, nations and international bodies. ~Pope John Paul II~
His voice was a magnet but it was not that alone which drew the crowds from all over Cracow. “It was because what he said was simple and easy to understand and because he said it with a blazing sincerity,” remembers a former parishioner. “You could sense that he longed to take you by the hand and lead you to God. He didn’t see himself as a mediator between you and God, he just wanted to be able to put you right there in God’s presence. You might say that he was a real shepherd.” ~Mary Craig~ Man from a Far Country, a portrait of Pope John Paul II
Whenever he preached, the church was packed and overflowing into the aisles and into the street. Students from the University made a point of getting to the church early so as to get a good seat near the pulpit. He did not dazzle them with oratory, but he spoke straight to the heart of their situation. “He told us to follow the Gospel message, and that nothing else mattered. I learned from him,” a woman said, “that God doesn’t demand the impossible of us. We do what we can and He accepts us.” ~Mary Craig~ Man from a Far Country, a portrait of Pope John Paul II.
Men are like wine. Some turn to vinegar, but the best improve with age. ~Pope John XXIII~
Believe in love at first sight, but be engaged at least six months before you get married. Marry a man/woman you love to talk to. As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.
When you say, “I love you,” mean it. Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it’s the only way to live life completely. Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.
Remember the three R’s: Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions. Never laugh at anyone’s dreams. People who don’t have dreams don’t have much.
Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship. In disagreements, fight fairly – no name calling. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it. When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.
Today is ANZAC day (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) and is a celebration of the date that the troops landed in Turkey to participate in World War I. The brave men and women who gave their lives in the struggle for freedom are remembered…
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in sky
The larks, still barely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, fell down, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe;
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Now that we’re retired
With our ‘Golden Years’ ahead,
We can arise in early morning
Or we can rest awhile in bed
We can drink our breakfast coffee
While we listen to the news.
We can rush into our housework
Or dawdle if we choose.
We have outlived all our troubles;
We have left behind our cares.
We can now see God’s great blessings,
And we now have time for prayers.
Age is no time for sadness;
Age has not time for tears.
There should be only joy and gladness
When we reach our ‘Golden Years.”
The day that I was christened-
It’s a hundred years, and more!-
A hag came and listened
At the white church door,
A-hearing her that bore me
And all my kith and kin
Considerately, for me,
While some gave me corals,
And some gave me gold,
And porringers, with morals
The hag stood, buckled
In a dim gray cloak;
Stood there and chuckled,
Spat, and spoke:
“There’s few enough in life’ll
Be needing my help,
But I’ve got a trifle
For your fine young whelp.
I give her sadness,
And the gift of pain,
The new-moon madness,
And the love of rain.”
And little good to lave me
In their holy silver bowl
After what she gave me-
Rest her soul!
On April 20th I posted my 365th item. It took me just over a year as I missed a few days. Having almost exhausted my personal trove, I hope I can continue to find literary items that will both amuse and entertain.
Read, learn, work it up, go to the literature. Information is control.
…From The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion
True love is a precious pleasure
Rich delight, unvalued treasure
Two firm hearts in one heart meeting
Clasping hand in hand, ne’er fleeting
Wreathlike, like a maze entwining
Two fair minds in one combining
Foe to faithless vows perfidious
True love is a knot religious
Dead to the sins that flaming rise
Through beauty’s soul-seducing eyes
Deaf to gold enchanting witches
Love for virtue not for riches
Such is true love’s boundless measure
True love is a precious pleasure.