Arthur Hughes, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Words are the currency of communication; endlessly combined they express every emotions, pass on knowledge, contribute to an ordered society and fulfil many, many more functions.
The Bee Gees had it right:
‘Words, words are all I have
To take your breath away.’
I got to know this piece when the choir at Sunday Mass consisted of me and the local private doctor.
Motet – arranged by John Rutter
Go forth into the world in peace.
Be of good courage.
Hold fast that which is good.
Render to no one evil for evil.
Strengthen the faint hearted.
Support the weak.
Help the afflicted.
Show love to everyone.
Love and serve the Lord,
rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit;
and the blessing of almighty God,
the Father, the + Son, and the Holy Spirit,
be among you and remain with you always. Amen.
Source of words: Book of Common Prayer, 1892, 1928, modified.
Not a bad set of precepts to try to live by.
An Irish Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face;
the rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again,
may God hold you in the palm of His hand.
I know my favourite poets but I do not know my favourite poem; there are so many contenders but this is one which always touches me:
When I am dead, my dearest
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
Christina Rossetti
Poetry comes in many forms and I was delighted to read the praise of one of Al’s concoctions published recently in the style of a wine critic. Sorry, I forgot to note who wrote it but I have not seen anything to match it on GP since the early EOL rants!
Three years of Grammar School French, Spanish and Latin did not turn me into a linguist; but many visits to France since 1963 and two short spells living there have given me a decent grasp of the language and I find that, although I cannot remember much Spanish, I can read both it and Italian fairly well.
I have a daughter in Spain so I must bone up a bit before I visit next!
A few of mine to end.
Childhood
Trotting there behind them
scampering down the strand
us four little brothers
happy little band.
Roaming over hillside
creeping through the fields
down the brambled chalk-pit
cardboard for our shields.
Woods give up their secrets
holes and burrows ‘splored
cutting trees and swinging
out across the ford.
Birds roused from their slumber
on a Summer’s day
wander through the wide world
many games to play.
Fields and fields of harvest
poppies by the score
corn ripe in the sunshine
who could ask for more.
Little stream that sparkles
gliding over sand
try to hook the minnows
tickle trout by hand.
Rafts sailed on the water
such a scary ride
sneak away from big ones
in the bushes hide.
Apples when in season
hole that’s in the fence
back with pockets bulging
got more eyes than sense.
Days and days of sunshine
night comes very late
wish that we could linger
wish the dark would wait.
Oh what fun we had then
oh what joy unbound
slips away our childhood
and never more is found.
Parlez-moi de nous mon amour
Tu tu êtes assis dans le parc ce jour-là
Mes yeux ont été attirés vers tu
J’ai rêvé que tu passeras mon formulaire vieillissement
Et trouver le plus profond de moi,
Sous cette vieille croûte mon cœur bat gras
Il ya tellement plus à voir.
Nous avons parlé et avons marché et tenu nos mains
C’était un jour de joie,
Tu as une élégance terreuse
Et un sourire qui illumine mon âme.
Bien que nous puissions venir de différents mondes
Chaque parlent la langue de notre mère
L’argot de notre histoire d’amour –
Que la langue des signes de l’amour.
Parfois je vois une croix d’ombre
C’est oh si belle visage
Tes yeux sont si profondes et belle
Sont souvent me chercher.
Parlez-moi de nous mon amour
Et calmer votre coeur incertain
J’ai pas peur, j’ai besoin de tu afin
Je tiens à tu lever.
Donc, me parler de nous mon amour
Comment nous étions censés être.
Amazing what can be done nowadays – thank you mister google translate – but I must admit a French lady-friend of mine did get out the correcting pen!
The lost Battalion
We used to think, when we were young.
when we were young and life was good
that we would live, and stay as strong,
and stay as strong. We thought we would.
Those days are now so long away
but young and strong we did not stay.
Where are they now, those men I knew,
those men I knew, old friends of mine
that time we lived. What we went through,
the way we were, so bold, so fine,
of most of them I have no news
‘cept when they go; in ones or twos.
Old Danny now,and Jim, and Pete,
long out of touch, but then I hear
their time ran out, admit defeat –
they were not old: my age or near,
Six hundred plus we were back then;
The Best of Days – live them again!
Valete veteres sodales
Gillygangle 2026
