Last year I put up my favorite poem by William Butler Yeats. I think a yearly Yeats is appropriate.
Hound Voice
Because we love bare hills and stunted trees
And were the last to choose the settled ground,
Its boredom of the desk or of the spade, because
So many years companioned by a hound,
Our voices carry; and though slumber-bound,
Some few half wake and half renew their choice,
Give tongue, proclaim their hidden name — ‘hound voice.’
The women that I picked spoke sweet and low
And yet gave tongue. ‘Hound voices’ were they all.
We picked each other from afar and knew
What hour of terror comes to test the soul,
And in that terror’s name obeyed the call,
And understood, what none have understood,
Those images that waken in the blood.
Some day we shall get up before the dawn
And find our ancient hounds before the door,
And wide awake know that the hunt is on;
Stumbling upon the blood-dark track once more,
Then stumbling to the kill beside the shore;
Then cleaning out and bandaging of wounds,
And chants of victory amid the encircling hounds.
rhp6033 spews:
Hmmm, sounds like he’s been partaking a bit of the Irish Whisky.
rhp6033 spews:
Off topic, I guess, but I’m not really sure what the topic is on this one….
Poll Shows Faith in Government Plummets; Warning Signs for Republicans Emerge
Ekim spews:
@2, the gap would be even wider if Obama would stop trying to be GOP lite.
rhp6033 spews:
# 2: Agreed.