Locksley Hall

by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)

COMRADES, leave me here a little, while as yet ’tis early morn:
Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle horn.
’Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call,
Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall;
Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts,
And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts.

Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest,
Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West.
Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro’ the mellow shade,
Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid.
Here about the beach I wander’d, nourishing a youth sublime
With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time;
When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed;
When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed:
When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see;
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.—

In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin’s breast;
In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest;
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish’d dove;
In the Spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young,
And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance hung.
And I said, “My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me,
Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee.”
On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour and a light,
As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night.
And she turn’d—her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs—
All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes—
Saying, “I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong;”
Saying, “Dost thou love me, cousin?” weeping, “I have loved thee long.”

Love took up the glass of Time, and turn’d it in his glowing hands;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass’d in music out of sight.
...............
Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of youth!
Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth!
Cursed be the sickly forms that err from honest Nature’s rule!
Cursed be the gold that gilds the straiten’d forehead of the fool!

Well—’tis well that I should bluster!—Hadst thou less unworthy proved—
Would to God—for I had loved thee more than ever wife was loved.
Am I mad, that I should cherish that which bears but bitter fruit?
I will pluck it from my bosom, tho’ my heart be at the root.
Never, tho’ my mortal summers to such length of years should come
As the many-winter’d crow that leads the clanging rookery home.

Where is comfort? in division of the records of the mind?
Can I part her from herself, and love her, as I knew her, kind?
I remember one that perish’d: sweetly did she speak and move:
Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love.
Can I think of her as dead, and love her for the love she bore?
No—she never loved me truly: love is love for evermore.

Comfort? comfort scorn’d of devils! this is truth the poet sings,
That a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.
Drug thy memories, lest thou learn it, lest thy heart be put to proof,
In the dead unhappy night, and when the rain is on the roof.
....................
“They were dangerous guides the feelings—she herself was not exempt—
Truly, she herself had suffer’d”—Perish in thy self-contempt!
Overlive it—lower yet—be happy! wherefore should I care?
I myself must mix with action, lest I wither by despair.
What is that which I should turn to, lighting upon days like these?
Every door is barr’d with gold, and opens but to golden keys.
Every gate is throng’d with suitors, all the markets overflow.
I have but an angry fancy: what is that which I should do?
I had been content to perish, falling on the foeman’s ground,
When the ranks are roll’d in vapour, and the winds are laid with sound.

But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honour feels,
And the nations do but murmur, snarling at each other’s heels.
Can I but relive in sadness? I will turn that earlier page.
Hide me from my deep emotion, O thou wondrous Mother-Age!
Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt before the strife,
When I heard my days before me, and the tumult of my life;
Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield,
Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father’s field,

And at night along the dusky highway near and nearer drawn,
Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn;
And his spirit leaps within him to be gone before him then,
Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men:
Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new:
That which they have done but earnest of the things that they shall do:

For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,
Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be;
Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales;
Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and there rain’d a ghastly dew
From the nations’ airy navies grappling in the central blue;
Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm,
With the standards of the peoples plunging thro’ the thunder-storm;
Till the war-drum throbb’d no longer, and the battle-flags were furl’d
In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world.
There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe,
And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.

So I triumph’d ere my passion sweeping thro’ me left me dry,
Left me with the palsied heart, and left me with the jaundiced eye;
Eye, to which all order festers, all things here are out of joint,
Science moves, but slowly slowly, creeping on from point to point:
Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion creeping nigher,
Glares at one that nods and winks behind a slowly-dying fire.

Yet I doubt not thro’ the ages one increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widen’d with the process of the suns.
What is that to him that reaps not harvest of his youthful joys,
Tho’ the deep heart of existence beat for ever like a boy’s?

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore,
And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.
Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and he bears a laden breast,
Full of sad experience, moving toward the stillness of his rest.

Hark, my merry comrades call me, sounding on the bugle-horn,
They to whom my foolish passion were a target for their scorn:
Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such a moulder’d string?
I am shamed thro’ all my nature to have loved so slight a thing.
............
Here at least, where nature sickens, nothing. Ah, for some retreat
Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my life began to beat;
Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell my father evil-starr’d;
I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish uncle’s ward.

Or to burst all links of habit—there to wander far away,
On from island unto island at the gateways of the day.
Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and happy skies,
Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise.
........................
Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range.
Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
Thro’ the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day:
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
Mother-Age (for mine I knew not) help me as when life begun:
Rift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the lightnings, weigh the Sun—
O, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath not set.
Ancient founts of inspiration well thro’ all my fancy yet.

Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall!
Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall.
Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt,
Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt.
Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or snow;
For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go.

Vacation (?) Reading

I'm one of those people who's notorious for having at least three books going at once. Here's what I'm reading right now:

Beka Cooper: Terrier by Tamora Pierce
Franklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meacham
Moby-Dick by Herman Melville
Next Door Saviour by Max Lucado
The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis
An Ancient Strife by Michael Phillips
Celtic Myths and Legends by Peter Berresford Ellis

Moby Dick

Possibly the greatest opening in all of literature:

"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off- then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, sometime or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings toward the ocean with me."
Herman Melville, Moby Dick

I love that passage, the part in bold being my favorite of Melville's poetic flourishes in it. It perfectly describes the way I feel sometimes. There are days when I feel that "damp, drizzly November in my soul" and I want nothing more than to get outside for a walk or something like that. I love the ocean, but for me spending a little time by a river or taking a walk in the cemetary near my house does just fine for "driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation." Walking in a cemetary is a little morbid, I admit, but it really is beautiful and peaceful in there. Good place to think and get things in perspective.

Ukulele Gently Weeps

Jake Shimabukuro performs his version of While My Guitar Gently Weeps by George Harrison using a ukulele. I'm just starting to learn the ukulele. This guy is a master. The video and the song are pretty much amazing.

As the Time Draws Nigh

As the Time Draws Nigh by Walt Whitman

As the time draws nigh glooming a cloud,
A dread beyond of I know not what darkens me.

I shall go forth,
I shall traverse the States awhile, but I cannot tell
whither or how long,
Perhaps soon some day or night while I am singing
my voice will suddenly cease.

O books, O chants! must all this then amount but to this?
Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us?- and
yet it is enough, O soul;
O soul, we have positively appear'd- that is enough.

Desiderata

From the Old St. Paul's Church, Baltimore, Maryland:
Desiderata
Go placidly among the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with other persons, you may become vain and bitter, for there will always be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the council of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labours and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be careful.
Strive to be happy.

Some thoughts...

"If only I could find the words to say to let you know how much you've touched my life, because here's where you're finding me- in the exact same place as [last] New Year's Eve. And from the lack of my persistency, we're less than half as close as I want to be."
"You have come to meet me here."
"You were born that I might really live"
"And the first time that you opened your eyes, did you realize that you would be my Savior? And the first breath that left your lips, did you know that it would change this world forever?"

-Relient K, "I Celebrate the Day"

"He says, "I removed the burden from their shoulders; their hands were set free from the basket. In your distress you called and I rescued you, I answered you out of a thundercloud; I tested you at the waters of Meribah."" Psalm 81: 6-7

Christian Liberalism

It's been a wicked long time since I posted on this blog. Guess I've been busy, and I've been posting on my blogs in Myspace and Facebook too.
Anyway, I've been getting more and more interested in the idea of being a Christian but a political liberal. Courtesy of a group on Facebook, here's some indicators of if you might be a Christian liberal:
Don't put us in your cold war relic ideological box. We're not Republicans and not Democrats. We're not right wing or left wing. And we'll never be a political bloc because there's only about 7.7 of us per state- but we're going for 8 in this election! So come and do politics Jesus/Old Testament/New Testament style.You might be a Christian Liberal if you agree with MOST (we can respectfully agree to disagree here and there) of this stuff:
1.You believe that you as a individual and the government have a joint responsibility to promote social justice (i.e. anti-poverty, criminal justice reform, environmental protection, etc.)
2. You believe that human-rights should dignify and protect life and liberty in every possible policy (i.e. abolishment of the death penalty, defending the rights of the unborn, international human rights advancement, etc.)
3. You do not believe in patriotism (though love of a nation's people/culture is is fine). As "citizens of Heaven" (or for the non-religious- "citizens of the world"), our loyalty to the state only exists insomuch as the state advances basic liberties and rights (i.e. freedom of speech, religion, etc.)
4. You believe a role of Christianity is to instill morality within Christians, not through legislation and within an unbelieving society. Therefore, laws that dictate personal morality should exist as little as possible (i.e. legalizing gambling, gay marriage, soft drugs, etc.)
5. You do not sell out to theological relativism. Just because we do not believe in forcing scriptural values on others, does not mean scriptural authority ceases to exist.
6. You believe in achieving "liberal" goals which include equality of opportunity and an economy of equity, but that they can only be achieved through the "conservative" lens of our fallen human nature and emphasis on personal responsibility.

Something I hate is when people- both Republicans and Democrats- claim that God/Jesus is on their side and would be a member of their political party if He was here today. Jesus, as far as I can tell, was a radical in his day- liberal in some respects, conservative in others (sounds like an Independent to me :-)) He upset the established political leaders, preached a message of love, but also predicted harsh judgement for those who failed to accept the Son. He's living proof that modern conservatism and liberalism can be reconciled.

Psalm 37

"Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun."
Psalm 37: 4-6

A challenge, perhaps? Delight yourself in and commit to the Lord. It would seem that doing so would reap great rewards.

A Governing Philosophy Rebuffed

A step back to the law, finally.

A Governing Philosophy Rebuffed: "In some ways, the ruling replicates a pattern in American history where presidents have acted aggressively in wartime, only to be reined in by courts or Congress. Even some Bush supporters said yesterday that it may be appropriate now to revisit decisions made ad hoc in a crisis atmosphere, when a president's natural instinct is to do whatever he thinks necessary to guard the nation against attack.
'That's what presidents do, and I say thank goodness for that,' said George J. Terwilliger III, deputy attorney general under President George H.W. Bush. 'But once you get past that point . . . both as a matter of law and a matter of culture, a more systemic approach to the use of authority is appropriate.'"