Wednesday, January 26, 2011

The Darkling Thrush

The Darkling Thrush
by Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter's dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land's sharp features seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Homeward Bound

Here's a song that I have been listening to a lot lately, especially with the new year and all the changes it brings.

Homeward Bound as performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

"In the quiet misty morning
When the moon has gone to bed,
When the sparrows stop their singing
And the sky is clear and red,

When the summer ceased its gleaming,
When the corn is past its prime,
When adventure's lost its meaning,
I'll be homeward bound in time

Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow.

If you find its me you're missing,
If you're hoping I'll return,
To your thoughts, I'll soon be listening
And in the road, I'll stop and turn.

Then the wind will set me racing!
As my journey nears its end,
And the path I'll be retracing
When I'm homeward bound again.

Bind me not to the pasture
Chain me not to the plow
Set me free to find my calling
And I'll return to you somehow."