Monthly Archives: December, 2014

Auld Lang Syne

Wishing everyone a Happy Healthy New Year…

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of Auld Lang Syne?
For Auld Lang Syne, my dear,
for Auld Lang Syne,
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for Auld Lang Syne.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of Auld Lang Syne?
And here’s a hand, my trusty friend
And gie’s a hand o’ thine
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet
For Auld Lang Syne

The song, “Auld Lang Syne,” is sung at the stroke of midnight in almost every English-speaking country in the world to bring in the New Year. At least partially written by Robert Burns in the 1700’s, it was first published in 1796 after Burns’ death.  Early variations of the song were sung prior to 1700 and inspired Burns to produce the modern rendition.  An old Scotch tune, “Auld Lang Syne” literally means “old long ago,” or simply, “the good old days.”


The Cloud

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother’s breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

~Percy Bysshe Shelley~


I live; this much I know; and I defy
The world to prove that I shall ever die!
But all men perish? Aye, and even so
Beneath the grasses lay this body low;
Forever close these eyes and still this breath;
All this, yet I shall not have tasted death.

Where are the lips that prattled infant lays?
The eyes that shone with light of childhood days?
The heart that bubbled o’er with boyhood’s glee?
The limbs that bounded as the chamois free?
The ears that heard life’s music everywhere?
These, all, where are they now? Declare.

Forever gone, forever dead! Yet still
I live. My love, my hate, my fear, my will,
My all that makes life living firm abides.
Death is my youth, and so my age must die;
But I remain – imperishable I.

Speed day and year! Fleet by the stream of time!
Wings, birds of passage, to a sunnier clime.
Come change, come dissolution and decay,
To kill the very semblance of this clay!
Yet, know the conscious, the unchanging I
Through all eternity shall never die.

~Willis Fletcher Johnson~

The Art of Music

Those who dance are thought mad by those who hear not the music.

Music is soul embodied in sound.

Without music life would be a mistake. Friedrich Nietsche

Whether the angels play only Bach in praising God I am not quite sure; I am sure, however, that en famille they play Mozart. Karl Barth

The power of music is so great, that in the legends of all nations, the invention of the art is ascribed to the Gods. Karl Merz

Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul. Plato

Music is well said to be the speech of angels. Thomas Carlyle

Most of us go to our graves with our music still inside of us. Oliver Wendell Holmes

…A miserable, self-destructive, death rocker…better to burn out than to fade away. Kurt Cobain‘s Suicide Note

When Joni Mitchell was asked how she could retire from music when it was such a huge part of herself, she replied, “Easy, it’s just like a wind that blew through me that stopped blowing. It’s gone.”

Who Has Seen the Wind?

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing thro’.

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

The Miracle

Yesterday the twig was brown and bare;
Today the glint of green is there;
Tomorrow will be leaflets spare;
I know no thing so wondrous fair,
No miracle so strangely rare.
I wonder what will next be there!
~L.H. Bailey~

Christmas Eve

My door is on the latch tonight,
The hearth-fire is aglow.
I seem to hear swift passing feet –
The Christ Child in the snow.

My heart is open wide tonight
For stranger, kith or kin.
I would not bar a single door
Where Love might enter in.

~Kate Douglas Wiggin~

We Ring The Bells On Christmas Day

We ring the bells on Christmas Day

Oh why?

Oh, why?

To echo what the angels say

On high!

On high!

~Elsie Williams Chandler~

Keep Christ in Christmas

Once in Royal David’s city
Stood a lowly cattle shed,
Where a mother laid her baby,
In a manger for his bed.
Mary was that Mother mild
Jesus Christ that little child.

Christmas Tyde

A seasonal poem from approximately 450 years ago…

Waigh not His crib, His wooden dish,
Nor beast that by Him feed:
Waigh not His Mother’s poor attire,
Nor Josephs simple weed.
This stable is a Princes courte,
The cribbe His chaire of State;
The beastes are parcell of His Pompe,
The wodden dishe His plate.
The persons in that poore attire,
His royall liveries weare,
The Prince Himselfe is come from heaven,
This pompe is prized there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight,
Doe homage to thy King;
And highly praise His humble Pompe,
Which He from Heaven doth bring.

~Robert Southwell~ 1561-1595


Paul Dobraszczyk

rag-picking history

Tdoo in Lesotho

My favourites and it's an eclectic selection


My favourites and it's an eclectic selection


Musings from a mind that just can't be made up

Faces in Places

My favourites and it's an eclectic selection