To: mr.mark who wrote (2952 ) 3/9/1999 6:14:00 PM From: Volsi Mimir Read Replies (2) | Respond to of 13018
The Mythical Journey Edwin Muir- 1937 First in the North. The black sea-tangled beaches, Brine-bitter stillness, tablet-strewn morass, Tall women against the sky with heads covered, The witch's house below the black-toothed mountain, Wave-echo in the roofless chapel, The twice-dead castle on the swamped-green mound, Darkness at noon-day, wheel of fire at midnight, The level sun and the wild shooting shadows. How long ago? Then sailing up to summer Over the edge of the world. Black hill of water, Rivers of running gold. The sun! The sun! Then the free summer isles. But the ship hastened on and brought him to The towering walls of life and the great kingdom. Where long he wandered seeking that which sought him Through all the little hills and shallow valleys. One whose form and features, Race and speech he did not know, shapeless, tongueless, Known to him only by the impotent heart, And whether at all on earth the place of meeting, Beyond all knowledge. Only the little hills, Head-high, and the winding valleys, Turning, returning, till there grew a pattern, And it was held. And there stood both in their stations With the hills between them. And that was the meaning. Though sometimes through the wavering light and shadow He thought he saw it a moment as he watched The red deer walking by the riverside At evening, when the bells were ringing, And the bright stream leapt silent from the mountain Far in the sunset. But as he looked, nothing Was there but lights and shadows. .............................And then the vision Of conclusion without fulfillment. The plain of glass and in the crystal grave That which he had sought, that which had sought him, Glittering in death. And all the dead scattered Like fallen stars, clustered like leaves hanging From the sad boughs of the mountainous tree of Adam Planted far down in Eden. And on the hills The gods reclined and conversed with each other From summit to summit. .............................Conclusion Without fulfillment. Thence the dream rose upward, The living dream sprung from the dying vision, Overarching all. Beneath its branches He builds in faith and doubt his shaking house. ---==---Everything is broken [excerpts]B.Dylan Broken bottles,Broken plates Broken switches,Broken gates Broken dishes, Broken parts Streets are filled with Broken Hearts Broken words never meant to be spoken EVERYTHING IS BROKEN Seems like every time you stop and turn around Something else just hit the ground ......... ..... .. . Everytime you leave and go off someplace Things fall to pieces in my face Broken Hands on Broken ploughs Broken treaties, Broken vows Broken pipes, Broken tools People bending Broken rules Hound dog howling, bull frog croaking EVERYTHING IS BROKENDust of Snow The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.Robert Frost