Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze the meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Music for your Midweek: Sivu - "Better man than he"
Sivu is a treasure.
I shared one of his tracks in my mix from August, and in last year's October mix. He contributed to a lovely track on Alt-J's new album. I just like him a lot.
I'm a sucker for a good brass section. The landscape is incredible. Hope you enjoy.
I shared one of his tracks in my mix from August, and in last year's October mix. He contributed to a lovely track on Alt-J's new album. I just like him a lot.
I'm a sucker for a good brass section. The landscape is incredible. Hope you enjoy.
We'll find faith in the most magical of placesAnd find home in the smallest of roomsWe'll find life in the most barrenness of facesAnd touch Christ in impending doom
Labels:
midweek music,
music
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Thursday Verse: "Harlem [Dream Deffered]" - Langston Hughes
Harlem
[Dream Deffered]
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore --
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
- Langston Hughes
[Dream Deffered]
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore --
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
- Langston Hughes
Labels:
poetry
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Thursday Verse: "First Fig" - Edna St. Vincent Millay
First Fig
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light!
My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light!
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
Labels:
poetry
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Music for your Midweek: Alice Boman - "Over"
Beautiful
Labels:
midweek music,
music
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Thursday Verse: "The Red Wheelbarrow" - William Carlos Williams
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
- William Carlos William
Labels:
poetry
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Thursday Verse: "Spring and Fall" - Gerard Manley Hopkins
Spring and Fall
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter; child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor moth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter; child, the name:
Sorrow's springs are the same.
Nor moth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
- Gerard Manley Hopkins
Labels:
poetry
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