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Friday Poetry: Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge


In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw;
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

April Spring Storm

I had put in leave for Monday April 15 (tax day, I know.) I had great plans to go shopping and just do "girl" stuff. Mother Nature had other ideas. It started snowing, raining ice pellets (what's with that?) and it really hasn't stopped for long since then. It is now Wednesday, the third day of our April spring storm.

So I didn't go anywhere on Monday, my "off" day. Tuesday was pretty yuckky weather wise, so I cleared my calendar and decided to work from home. Wednesday, today, the weather forecast was even worse, so again, cleared my calendar and worked from home. CSU closed early on Monday and closed today at noon. When CSU closes, you have got to know that the weather conditions are not good. 

The weird thing is prior to this storm we were having gorgeous spring weather. Snow from a prior storm had melted away.  Much to my astonishment, my bulbs had come up. So there Bunnies!


Photographic proof of my bulbs' survival of the bunnies.


 You might think that this photo is arbitrary. But, let me draw your attention to the garden container holder just to the left of the middle tree. Watch this carefully...


Where are you garden container holder? This was taken on April 16th.


This was taken today, April 17th at about noon. Hello garden container holder where are you?

While I am really greatful not to be out in this, after three days of being at home, I am starting to get a little antsy. So thanks Mother Nature for the much needed moisture, but please could you stop it? Moving along here people.



Friday Poetry: The Owl and the Pussycat by Edward Lear


The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
   In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
   Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
   And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
    What a beautiful Pussy you are,
         You are,
         You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
   How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
   But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
   To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
   With a ring at the end of his nose,
             His nose,
             His nose,
   With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
   Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."
So they took it away, and were married next day
   By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;   
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
   They danced by the light of the moon,
             The moon,
             The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.