Walking out of the woods at sunset, I snapped this pic of a special spot -- a place that Dad loved, the last place he spent time in nature before he passed away. The beauty is still here!
2 comments:
Anonymous
said...
Wow! What beauty!! There is an old poem written by Ronald Ross, and titled "The Death of Peace" which is too dark as a whole for such a holy place as this, but these stanzas certainly are appropriate...
"The sunbeams slanting through those ancient trees, The sunlit lichens burning on the byre, The lark descending, and the homing bees, Proclaim the sweet relief all things desire.
Golden the river brims beneath the west, And holy peace to all the world is given; The songless stockdove preens her ruddied breast; The blue smoke windeth like a prayer to heaven.
The gentle Beings of the hearth and home; The lovely Dryads of her aislèd woods; The Angels that do dwell in solitudes Where she dwelleth; and joyous Spirits that roam To bless her bleating flocks and fruitful lands; Are gather’d there to weep, and kiss her dying hands."
Thanks, AP -- very sensitive and apt lines of poetry! good stuff...
And glad you like the pic! High praise, lol. I've a few more pics from that area, more haunting, lol. But you are right: the beauty is compelling...one can almost touch it!
2 comments:
Wow! What beauty!! There is an old poem written by Ronald Ross, and titled "The Death of Peace" which is too dark as a whole for such a holy place as this, but these stanzas certainly are appropriate...
"The sunbeams slanting through those ancient trees,
The sunlit lichens burning on the byre,
The lark descending, and the homing bees,
Proclaim the sweet relief all things desire.
Golden the river brims beneath the west,
And holy peace to all the world is given;
The songless stockdove preens her ruddied breast;
The blue smoke windeth like a prayer to heaven.
The gentle Beings of the hearth and home;
The lovely Dryads of her aislèd woods;
The Angels that do dwell in solitudes
Where she dwelleth; and joyous Spirits that roam
To bless her bleating flocks and fruitful lands;
Are gather’d there to weep, and kiss her dying hands."
Thanks, AP -- very sensitive and apt lines of poetry! good stuff...
And glad you like the pic! High praise, lol. I've a few more pics from that area, more haunting, lol. But you are right: the beauty is compelling...one can almost touch it!
:-)
Post a Comment