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Archive for the ‘Personal Favourites’ Category

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If you can keep your head when all about you

are losing theirs and blaming it on you

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you

but make allowance for their doubting too

If you can wait and not be tired of waiting

or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

or being hated, don’t give way to hating

and yet don’t look too good nor talk too wise

If you can dream and not make dreams your master

If you can think and not make thoughts your aim

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

and treat those two impostors both the same

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools

or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

and stoop and build them up with worn out tools

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss

and lose and start again at your beginnings

and never breathe a word about your loss

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

to serve your turn long after they are gone

and so, hold on when there is nothing in you

except the will which says to them hold on

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue

or walk with kings nor lose the common touch

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you

If all men count with you but none too much

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

with sixty seconds worth of distance run

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it

And which is more you’ll be a man my son

Rudyard Kipling- 1895

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Do you remember that hour
In a nook of the flowing uplands
When you found for me, at the cornfield’s edge,
A golden and purple flower?
Heartsease, you said.  I thought it might be
A token that love meant well by you and me.

I shall not find it again
With you no more to guide me.
I could not bear to find it now
With anyone else beside me.
And the heartsease is far less rare
Than what it is named for, what I can feel nowhere.

Once again it is summer:
Wildflowers beflag the lane
That takes me away from our golden uplands,
Heart-wrung and alone.
The best I can look for, by vale or hill,
A herb they tell me is common enough , self-heal.

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copyright C. Day Lewis 1948

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Heartsease I found, where Love lies bleeding
Empurpled all the ground:
Whatever flowers I missed unheeding,
Heartsease I found.
Yet still my garden mound
Stood sore in need of watering, weeding,
And binding growths unbound.
Ah, when shades fell to light succeeding
I scarcely dared look round:
Love lies bleeding was all my pleading,
Heartsease I found.

copyright Christina Rossetti 1893

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There is a flower I wish to wear,

But not until first worn by you,

Heartsease of all Earth’s flowers most rare;

Bring it; and bring enough for two.

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An infusion of Heartsease is said to mend a broken heart.

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Our hearts may break when loved ones die,
We live, we love, we often cry,
Though time may heal, it can’t replace
That look of grief that clouds our face.
But once I heard some words so wise,
That dried the tears behind my eyes.
Imagine this; a calm blue sea,
A sailing ship, so fine, so free.
It sails away and looks quite small,
Until it can’t be seen at all,
But even though the vision’s gone,
Its chartered course still carries on.
We’re privileged to see it go,
To other shores?..we’ll never know.
Copyright S.Stone 5/7/16

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Reminds me of a special time with my Dad.

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With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Written in September 1914

The words of the fourth verse are said to have come to him first.

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I remember being young and thinking of the war
Whilst wearing grandad’s medals that I’d taken from his draw
I tried to ask him questions that formed within my mind
They must have seemed insensitive and probably unkind
I badgered him to tell me about those foreign lands
and pestered him to paint a scene to make me understand
He told me of his injuries that left his body weak
But all the hurts inside his mind were thoughts he couldn’t speak
I handed back the medals he always let me wear
And as I did he said these words
“Be glad that you weren’t there”
Copyright S. Stone 7/11/16

I wish I still had my grandad Bagleys medals. I, like Shirley, remember looking at them as a child. I know that one day some of his relatives came from Leicester and he gave them to their little boy. Grandad was very young when he went to war and was away in France for two years. Luckily for us he came home, injured and broken but back home. He never spoke about his experiences and I never asked him. I loved him very much and I know his genes have lived on in my brother and my son Adam. Miss you grandad.

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Remember Me

Remember me as you pass by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now so you will be

Prepare  yourself to follow me

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Do I love you to the moon and back?
No, I love you more than that.
I love you to the desert sands,
The mountains, stars, the planets and
I love you to the deepest sea,
And deeper still, through history.
Before beyond, I loved you then,
I love you now. I’ll love you when
The sun’s gone out, the moon’s gone home,
And all the stars are fully grown.
When I no longer say these words,
I’ll give them to the wind, the birds,
So that they will still be heard………
I love you.

For Libbie

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Fly

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Fly, fly little one
Your endless journey has begun
Take your gentle happiness
Far too beautiful for this
Cross over to the other shore
There is peace forevermore
But hold this memory bittersweet
Until we meet
Fly, fly do not fear
Don’t waste a breath, don’t shed a tear
Your heart is pure, your soul is free
Be on your way, don’t wait for me
Above the universe you’ll climb
On beyond the hands of time
The moon will rise, the sun will set
But I won’t forget
Fly, fly little wing
Fly where only angels sing
Fly away, the time is right
Go now, find the light
These are words from a song by Celine Dion. I wrote them on a card following the death of a good friend Stella Preston and always think of them when I remember her. Always remembered and missed.

 

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