The Neat Little Bookshop will be closed today in order for us to attend a family funeral. We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience.
We will return tomorrow and look forward to Neil Paul's visit. Join Neil for a reading of the poet Robert Service.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
 |
| Lake Erie Haldimand County |
This world is not conclusion
a sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don't know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known.
~ Emily Dickinson, XXX1
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
"The Rhyme of the Restless Ones"
~ Last two stanzas of Robert Service's poem
And you'll find us in Alaska after gold,
And you'll find us herding cattle in the South.
We like strong drink and fun, and, when the race is run,
We often die with curses in our mouth.
We are wild as colts unbroke, but never mean.
Of our sins we've shoulders broad to bear the blame;
But we'll never stay in town and we'll never settle down,
And we'll never have an object or an aim.
No, there's that in us that time can never tame;
And life will always seem a careless game;
And they'd better far forget ~
Those who say they love us yet~
Forget, blot out with bitterness our name.
~ Collected Poems of Robert Service, Dodd, Mead & Company, 1907
~ Last two stanzas of Robert Service's poem
And you'll find us in Alaska after gold,
And you'll find us herding cattle in the South.
We like strong drink and fun, and, when the race is run,
We often die with curses in our mouth.
We are wild as colts unbroke, but never mean.
Of our sins we've shoulders broad to bear the blame;
But we'll never stay in town and we'll never settle down,
And we'll never have an object or an aim.
No, there's that in us that time can never tame;
And life will always seem a careless game;
And they'd better far forget ~
Those who say they love us yet~
Forget, blot out with bitterness our name.
~ Collected Poems of Robert Service, Dodd, Mead & Company, 1907
Monday, November 12, 2012
Join us along with Neil Paul
Thursday, November 15 from 1:00 to 3:00 p.m.
Neil will be reading poetry and prose
of Robert Service
"Bard of the Yukon"
Robert Service is the author of the ballads "The Shooting of Dan McGrew" and "The Cremation of Sam McGee." "He has caught the spirit of wanderlust latent in every one of us and his verses will live on forever." ~flyleaf of Complete Poems of Robert Service.
 |
| R. Service Cabin in Dawson City, Yukon ~ Wikipedia |
My Book
by Robert Service ~ on witnessing a would-be author who appears homeless, occasionally scribbling on bits of paper.
Before I drink myself to death,
God, let me finish up my Book!
At night, I fear, I fight for breath,
And wake up whiter than a spook;
And crawl off to a bistro near,
And drink until my brain is clear.
Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength
To write and write; and so I spend
Day after day, until at length
With joy and pain I'll write The End:
Then let this carcase rot; I give
The world my Book ~ my Book will live.
For every line is tense with truth,
There's hope and joy on every page;
A cheer, a clarion call to Youth,
A hymn, a comforter to Age:
All's there that I was meant to be,
My part divine, the God in me.
It's of my life the golden sum;
Ah! who that reads this Book of mine,
In stormy centuries to come,
Will dream I rooted with the swine?
Behold! I give mankind my best:
What does it matter, all the rest?
It's this that makes sublime my day;
It's this that makes me struggle on.
Oh, let them mock my mortal clay,
My spirit's deathless as the dawn;
Oh, let them shudder as they look...
I'll be immortal in my Book.
And so beside the sullen Seine
I fight with dogs for filthy food,
Yet know that from my sin and pain
Will soar serene a Something Good;
Exultantly from shame and wrong
A Right, a Glory and a Song.
~ Complete Poems of Robert Service. Dodd, Mead &Company Inc., 1907
RBS (1877 - 1858)
Sunday, November 11, 2012
"NO ROAD TO GLORY"
by Major A. R. Thompson, late 4th Battalion, C.E.F.
"Suddenly, out of a dawn that had seemed tired of strife, burst the thunder of guns as blinding flashes rent the parting shadows. A figure, eerie in the half light, ran shrieking towards the line. A sharp command brought the shell-shocked fugitive to a stop and haltingly he told what had happened. On the ground his head blown off, lay Smith, with others nearby dead and dying. One shell had knocked out eight men before the rest had scattered. Jones hurried along to see the extent of the casualties, and found all who had been hit were dead except O. and one other who was grievously wounded. Another man who had returned to the spot waited nearby and lent his help. Between them they managed to drag the two wounded men into a blind trench not far off. All the while the shelling continued furiously; crumps crashing one behind, one before, now nearer, now further like some fierce beast of prey who waits to tantilize before the kill. Poor O., his body badly split, lay groaning quietly. The other, with a strangely similar wound, first cursed, then cried aloud in so weird a medley of prayer and blasphemy that Jones trembled and his blood ran cold. at length help came; stretcher bearers from the 4th Battalion who had learned the plight of the wirers arrived and carried off the two sufferers. The party had scarcely gone 50 yards from their recent cover, when a shell tumbled into the trench so nearly their grave. When they reached the Dressing Station, O. had taken his discharge in full. His was the soul of Bayard; it rests in peace."
~ Canadian Military Gazette, February, 1941, VOL. LVI ~ No. 2
by Major A. R. Thompson, late 4th Battalion, C.E.F.
"Suddenly, out of a dawn that had seemed tired of strife, burst the thunder of guns as blinding flashes rent the parting shadows. A figure, eerie in the half light, ran shrieking towards the line. A sharp command brought the shell-shocked fugitive to a stop and haltingly he told what had happened. On the ground his head blown off, lay Smith, with others nearby dead and dying. One shell had knocked out eight men before the rest had scattered. Jones hurried along to see the extent of the casualties, and found all who had been hit were dead except O. and one other who was grievously wounded. Another man who had returned to the spot waited nearby and lent his help. Between them they managed to drag the two wounded men into a blind trench not far off. All the while the shelling continued furiously; crumps crashing one behind, one before, now nearer, now further like some fierce beast of prey who waits to tantilize before the kill. Poor O., his body badly split, lay groaning quietly. The other, with a strangely similar wound, first cursed, then cried aloud in so weird a medley of prayer and blasphemy that Jones trembled and his blood ran cold. at length help came; stretcher bearers from the 4th Battalion who had learned the plight of the wirers arrived and carried off the two sufferers. The party had scarcely gone 50 yards from their recent cover, when a shell tumbled into the trench so nearly their grave. When they reached the Dressing Station, O. had taken his discharge in full. His was the soul of Bayard; it rests in peace."
~ Canadian Military Gazette, February, 1941, VOL. LVI ~ No. 2
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)