The Light-Keeper

The Light-Keeper
by Robert Louis Stevenson

The brilliant kernel of the night,
The flaming lightroom circles me:
I sit within a blaze of light

Held high above the dusky sea.
Far off the surf doth break and roar
Along bleak miles of moonlit shore,

Where through the tides the tumbling wave
Falls in an avalanche of foam
And drives its churned waters home
Up many an undercliff and cave.

··· Robert Louis Stevenson 1850-1894 ···

A Faery Song

A Faery Song

i{Sung by the people of Faery over Diarmuid and Grania,}
i{in their bridal sleep under a Cromlech.}

WE who are old, old and gay,
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years,
If all were told:
Give to these children, new from the world,
Silence and love;
And the long dew-dropping hours of the night,
And the stars above:
Give to these children, new from the world,
Rest far from men.
Is anything better, anything better?
Tell us it then:
Us who are old, old and gay,
O so old!
Thousands of years, thousands of years,
If all were told.

William Butler Yeats

Georgia's Little Grand Canyon

Georgia’s “Little Grand Canyon” is a result of massive gullies as deep as 150 feet caused simply by poor farming practices during the 1800s, yet today they make some of the prettiest photographs within the state. The canyon soil’s pink, orange, red and purple hues make a beautiful natural painting at this quiet park.

White Trail at Providence Canyon

 

During Thanksgiving Holidays, I took a hike at Providence Canyon.  White trail was 2 1/2 miles and circle around the canyon.  Leaves had started to fall and left a brillant trail of red and orange colors. 

"From Dewy Dreams, My Soul, Arise"

From Dewy Dreams

From dewy dreams, my soul, arise,
From love's deep slumber and from death,
For lo! the treees are full of sighs
Whose leaves the morn admonisheth.

Eastward the gradual dawn prevails
Where softly-burning fires appear,
Making to tremble all those veils
Of grey and golden gossamer.

While sweetly, gently, secretly,
The flowery bells of morn are stirred
And the wise choirs of faery
Begin (innumerous!) to be heard.

By James Joyce

Fountain of Youth in Florida

The Fountain of Youth is a legendary spring that reputedly restores the youth of anyone who drinks of its waters. Tales of such a fountain have been recounted across the world for thousands of years, appearing in writings by Herodotus, the Alexander romance, and the stories of Prester John.  The legend became particularly prominent in the 16th century, when it became attached to the Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de León, first Governor of Puerto Rico. Ponce de León was searching for the Fountain of Youth when he traveled to what is now Florida in 1513. Since then, the fountain has been frequently associated with Florida In St. Augustine. This ancient water fountain is located at Princess Preserve outside of St. Augustine.

"If Covered Bridges Could Talk"

"What stories could these bridges tell
If they could only talk?
They'd tell us of the ones who rode
And those who had to walk,
The rich, the poor....those in-between
Who used their planks to cross,
The soldiers, farmers, businessmen
In buggies, sleighs, by "hoss",
Like sentinels these bridges stand
In spite of flood and fire,
Their rugged, stalwart strength remains
Our future to inspire."

 

Untitled, Author unknown

Wetland Grass

 

Some of the different types of grass in the marsh.  There is so much of it but no bugs bothered me! Many different shades of green and brown.

Butterfly Warrior Wings

 

There is nothing unique about the appearance of this small butterfly except she was battled scarred and alone deep in the marsh.  Her wings were torn from wear and tear among the bushes and you knew she will soon be on her last flight. She has bravely survived the harsh elements of Hurricane Sandy's winds and rain and now the heat beating down on her delicate wings. A brave little butterfly hanging on. Only I could feel sorry for an insect!

Swamp Palm Tree

 

I really like how the Palm Tree curved its trunk to reach the sunrays from the swamp. How did the spanish explorers walk through this muddy, swampy ground to setup a colony?

Spanish Moss Covered Ground

Spanish moss covered the ground throughout the woods on Hominy Branch Trail.  It really looked like dirty cotton balls everywhere.  It has such an unusual appearance. I like the way the morning sun created shadows of the trees falling across the moss.

Sand, Mud Holes and Swamp

Took a 3.5 mile hike down Hominy Branch Trail at Princess Place Preserve. I walked on bridges that crossed over a swamp until reaching a long trail of white sand.  Sand is more difficult to walk on then walking on  a normal mountain trail.  Your shoes sink into the sand and you have to make extra effort to pulled your feet out of the sinking footprints. The sun starting beating down on my head and the white sand reflected the heat. It was a whammy of double heat! After the sand, then it was wet marshland and the trail became muddy.  Mud is also a challenge to pull your shoes out of of sinking mud holes.  Of  course the horses left their evidence in the mud and you had to be careful where you stepped in the mud! The mud really weighs down your feet and legs. The trail was a challenge in the hot Florida climate.

'Eleonora' - A River of Silence

“From the dim regions beyond the mountains at the upper end of our encircled domain, there crept out a narrow and deep river, brighter than all save the eyes of Eleonora; and, winding stealthily about in mazy courses, it passed away, at length, through a shadowy gorge, among hills still dimmer than those whence it had issued. We called it the "River of Silence"; for there seemed to be a hushing influence in its flow. No murmur arose from its bed, and so gently it wandered along, that the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to gaze, far down within its bosom, stirred not at all, but lay in a motionless content, each in its own old station, shining on gloriously forever.”
― Edgar Allan Poe, Eleonora

A "Huckaberry Finn" River

"We catched fish and talked, and we took a swim now and then to keep off sleepiness. It was kind of solemn, drifting down the big, still river, laying on our backs looking up at the stars, and we didn't ever feel like talking loud, and it warn't often that we laughed—only a little kind of a low chuckle. We had mighty good weather as a general thing, and nothing ever happened to us at all—that night, nor the next, nor the next."
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
Huck and Jim, Chapter 12.

Reflections of "Red River Valley"

 

 

 

Red River Valley

From this valley they say you are going.

We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile,

For they say you are taking the sunshine

That has brightened our pathway a while.

So come sit by my side if you love me.

Do not hasten to bid me adieu.

Just remember the Red River Valley,

And the one that has loved you so true.

Red River Valley is a folk song and cowboy music standard of controversial origins that has gone by different names—e.g., "Cowboy Love Song", "Bright Sherman Valley", "Bright Laurel Valley", "In the Bright Mohawk Valley", and "Bright Little Valley"—depending on where it has been sung.

'All Day I Hear the Noise of Waters" by James Joyce

All Day I hear the Noise of Waters

All day I hear the noise of waters
Making moan,
Sad as the sea-bird is when, going
Forth alone,
He hears the winds cry to the water's
Monotone.

The grey winds, the cold winds are blowing
Where I go.
I hear the noise of many waters
Far below.
All day, all night, I hear them flowing
To and fro.

James Joyce (2 February 1882 – 13 January 1941 / Dublin / Ireland)

Pogo:"We have met the enemy and he is us"

The animal characters Walt Kelly created for his classic newspaper comic strip Pogo were known for their seemingly simplistic, but slyly perceptive comments about the state of the world and politics.

None is more remembered than Pogo the ‘possum’s quote in the poster Kelly designed to help promote environmental awareness and publicize the first annual observance of Earth Day, held on April 22, 1970:
“WE HAVE MET THE ENEMY AND HE IS US.”
In the poster, under the quote, Pogo is seen holding a litter pick-up stick and a burlap bag.
He appears to be getting ready to start cleaning up the garbage humans have strewn over Okefenokee Swamp, the part of the planet where he lives.
Kelly used the line again in the Pogo strip published on the second Earth Day in 1971.
The words poignantly highlight a key concept of environmental stewardship: we all share part of the responsibility for the trashing of planet Earth, so we should all do our share to help clean it up.

Pellicer Creek at Faver Dykes

We took a trip to Faver Dykes during Octoberfest. The camp ground was full and people were crowding the parks.  I don't know where all the campers went but Pellicer Creek was quiet, calm and serene.

Leaves Across the Bridge

Walking the trail at Princess Preserve Park, the hardwood trees were shedding their leaves.  The red leaves against the backdrop of a red cedar bridge was a welcome sight among the endless pine trees, swamps and sand.

Sandy Rain Storms

Hurricane Sandy was a monstrous large force of nature covering 7 states with heavy rain, storms, 80-90 MPH winds as well as flooding.  A wet leaf from the rains of Hurricane Sandy.  Florida was very fortunate for Sandy stayed off shore and never came across land.  We got heavy winds from the outer-bands and rain but not the brutal force of a land fall.

Oyster Mushrooms

Oyster mushrooms growing on a decaying tree in Princess Preserve Park.  Oyster mushrooms grow throughout North America. If it rains enough and it's not too hot or cold, you can find them any month of the year, although they're most common in the second half of autumn.

'Little Girl Lost' by William Blake from Songs of Experience

The Little Girl Lost
By William Blake from 'Songs of Experience'

In futurity
I prophesy
That the earth from sleep
(Grave the sentence deep)
Shall arise, and seek
For her Maker meek;
And the desert wild
Become a garden mild.

In the southern clime,
Where the summer's prime
Never fades away,
Lovely Lyca lay.

Seven summers old
Lovely Lyca told.
She had wandered long,
Hearing wild birds' song.

'Sweet sleep, come to me,
Underneath this tree;
Do father, mother, weep?
Where can Lyca sleep?

'Lost in desert wild
Is your little child.
How can Lyca sleep
If her mother weep?

'If her heart does ache,
Then let Lyca wake;
If my mother sleep,
Lyca shall not weep.

'Frowning, frowning night,
O'er this desert bright
Let thy moon arise,
While I close my eyes.'

Sleeping Lyca lay,
While the beasts of prey,
Come from caverns deep,
Viewed the maid asleep.
Continue Reading: http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/blake/little_girl_lost.html

'Step Among the Stairs led to Heaven's Gate'

Dinah in Heaven
By Rudyard Kipling 1932

She did not know that she was dead,
  But, when the pang was o'er,
Sat down to wait her Master's tread
  Upon the Golden Floor,

With ears full-cock and anxious eye
  Impatiently resigned;
But ignorant that Paradise
  Did not admit her kind.

Persons with Haloes, Harps, and Wings
  Assembled and reproved;
Or talked to her of Heavenly things,
  But Dinah never moved.

There was one step along the Stair
  That led to Heaven's Gate;
And, till she heard it, her affair
  Was--she explained--to wait.

And she explained with flattened ear,
  Bared lip and milky tooth--
Storming against Ithuriel's Spear
  That only proved her truth!

Sudden--far down the Bridge of Ghosts
  That anxious spirits clomb--
She caught that step in all the hosts,
  And knew that he had come.

She left them wondering what to do,
  But not a doubt had she.
Swifter than her own squeal she flew
  Across the Glassy Sea;

Flushing the Cherubs every where,
  And skidding as she ran,
She refuged under Peter's Chair
  And waited for her man.
Continue reading http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/dinah_in_heaven.html

'Moonlight Through My Window'

Moonlight Through My Window

Moonlight shining through
my window pane,
Awaken me from slumber;
Shinning my room so bright
With illuminating light,
Stretching across the bed
Touching my fingers,
Careressing my face,
With moonlight kisses,
Calling me not to linger,

Beams of delicate light
Floating from the sky,
Like a candle's burning light
Flickering shadows on the floor;
Looking out into the night
An orange-crowned moon
Gazing down from the heavens,
Brighter then all the stars,
Glowing through the night,

In darkness all was quiet,
Birds settled in their nests,
The wind softly blowing,
Tree limbs swaying
Reflecting leafly shadows;
Movements of the night
Dancing in the meadows;
All the earths dark corners
Were brought into the light.

By PL Fallin

'The Arms of An Angel'

The Arms of an Angel

The arms of an angel,

A vision of light,
You brighten my world
Throughout the darkness of night.
Your stretched out arms,
Carries me into the heavens,
On a carpet of dreams
Into dawn's early light.
On the earth's green floor
I gaze at the wonders,
I can see the colors
Beneath the rushing waters,
Reflections of light,
Sprinkles of star dust,
Moonbeams Dancing
Across nightly shadows,
The morning sun comes,
The magic is gone,
I awake to find
A new day has begun.

By PL Fallin

'The Water Nymphs' by Ellis Parker Butler

The Water Nymphs by Ellis Parker Butler

They hide in the brook when I seek to draw nearer,
Laughing amain when I feign to depart;
Often I hear them, now faint and now clearer—
Innocent bold or so sweetly discreet.
Are they Nymphs of the Stream at their playing
Or but the brook I mistook for a voice?
Little care I; for, despite harsh Time’s flaying,
Brook voice or Nymph voice still makes me rejoice.

Ellis Parker Butler American Author, Humorist and Speaker Born: December 5, 1869; Muscatine, Iowa. Died: September 13, 1937; Williamsville, Massachusetts.

"You Look at Things"

You Look at Things

You look at things
Through his eyes.
He looks at things
Through yours,
An orange-breasted Robin,
A dark blue sky.
He is not there but
He knows and you know,
That where ever he may be,
You are tasting together
The foliage of fall,
The cold air of winter,
The warm rays of summer,
The misty showers
of early-spring weather.
It is the look
Where love dwells.

By PL Fallin

Bizarre and Exotic Red Bromeliad

Its red bloom resembles a tasty pineapple. With its spectacular color and exotic look.  We have a dozen blooming in the front yard. Bromeliads could be somewhat compared to orchids. In fact, many people have naively called them orchids, even though they are an entirely different plant family member. Part of that comparison has to do with the fact that they live natively side-by-side in the same trees. Most people have them as house plants, our plants grow outside and thrive in the Floridian climate under large shade oak trees. 

Sonnet: 'Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live' by Percy Bysshe Shelley

 

Lift Not The Painted Veil Which Those Who Live
by Percy Bysshe Shelley 

Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread,—behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it—he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love,
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.

Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824

'The Day is Done' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Day is Done

 by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807-1882

 

The day is done, and the darkness

Falls from the wings of Night,

As a feather is wafted downward

From an eagle in his flight.

 

I see the lights of the village

Gleam through the rain and the mist,

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me

That my soul cannot resist:

 

A feeling of sadness and longing,

That is not akin to pain,

And resembles sorrow only

As the mist resembles the rain.

 

Come, read to me some poem,
Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
And banish the thoughts of day.

 

 Click on Link to read entire poem

'Wind On The Hill' by A.A. Milne

 



Wind On The Hill by A.A. Milne
No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.

It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn't keep up with it,
Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.

And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes…
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.

'Come Out With Me' by A.A. Milne

Come Out with Me by A.A. Milne

There's sun on the river and sun on the hill . . .
You can hear the sea if you stand quite still!
There's eight new puppies at Roundabout Farm-
And I saw an old sailor with only one arm!

But everyone says, "Run along!"
(Run along, run along!)
All of them say, "Run along! I'm busy as can be."
Every one says, "Run along,
There's a little darling!"
If I'm a little darling, why don't they run with me?

There's wind on the river and wind on the hill . . .
There's a dark dead water-wheel under the mill!
I saw a fly which had just been drowned-
And I know where a rabbit goes into the ground!

But everyone says, "Run along!"
(Run along, run along!)
All of them say, "Yes, dear," and never notice me.
Every one says, "Run along,
There's a little darling!"
If I'm a little darling, why won't they come and see?