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The musings of one of God’s smallest creatures on events in and around the Parish over the past seven days . . . .
The relative peace and quiet here at The Presbytery is finally going to come to an end as Fr D returns from holiday late on Sunday night (and he’ll no doubt use his day off to recover and do the washing on Monday) . . . . .
Some thoughts on holidays:-
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows; -
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are; - a Fairy Tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
When the sun shouts and people abound
One thinks there were the ages of stone
and the age of bronze
And the iron age; iron the unstable metal;
Steel made of iron, unstable as his
mother; the towered-up cities
Will be stains of rust on mounds of plaster.
Roots will not pierce the heaps for a time,
kind rains will cure them,
Then nothing will remain of the iron age
And all these people but a thigh-bone or so, a poem
Stuck in the world's thought, splinters of glass
In the rubbish dumps, a concrete dam
far off in the mountain…
Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962)