The Memory That We Were Once MenAnsan looked over at Peacock, drinking his tea in the Florida chamber.
Right pinky finger extended, attention focused elsewhere, particularly
On the current edition of The Horse-Head Chronicles, vol.III
Scholarly interests aside, he inquired of his reading.
"Oh, this old thing! Yes, well, one must never forget his origins, you know."
Ansan nodded, replying, "Quite right. What year was the first printing?"
"Hm...see here, ah, it was 2020."
This disturbed Ansan, unexpectedly so.
"I suppose, that reminiscing on these quaint ideas of the past are...enlightening?" he asked, a trifle airily.
Peacock, as ever, was unperturbed by his companion's condescension, however conscious of it he may have been.
"I would say so, Ansan. 'For if we choose ignorance, a deathly slumber of the soul, shall we not become useless, a society of tired, old things with no reference, no vision, no past?' Or something of that sort."
"Apheneides Scalari, I presume?"
"Correct, sir. I used to quote him at
To Sing of Time or EternityA man wellnigh a hundred winters old,
Trembled in perilous places o'er a deep.
And thinking of the days that are no more,
Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
"O dying words, can music make you live?"
"Thou art but a wild-goose to question it."
So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept,
A man more pure and bold and just;
The herald of a higher race.
And with no language but a cry,
To hear him, clapt his hand in mine and sang-
Much have I seen and known,-cities of men:
Like the leaf in a roaring whirlwind, like the smoke in a hurricane whirl'd
Upon the threshold of the mind...
They know me not, but mourn with me.
Is music more than any song?
My guardian angel will speak out-
Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow,
In everlasting radiance gleaming.
Or dream--of thee they dreamed not--nor of me.
For them I battle to the end,
-Eternal process moving on-
They have their day and cease to be.
How many among us at this very hour,
Here at the quiet limit of the world,
The Cosmic MotesA long time ago
We were counting stars
(When these go there will be none to replace them)
That slip from heaven at night and softly fall.
Were they told they were free
When we locked up the house at night?
I would give anything to learn.
I've had you on my mind a thousand years;
All the light was from the girl herself
(At every point and facet glowed)
Before it changes to diamonds in the sun...
Make yourself up a cheering song of how,
You get the beauty of from where you are:
Caught color from the last of evening red,
And turned from looking up and being kissed,
-Verse could be written on the certainty-
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves,
And be her next joy this:
I will be there for you, my dear
The way I can with you--and you with me.
Engaged up there with the light and breeze,
Between stars--on stars where no human race is.
The Winter Fountains Gush For TheeWalk the dark hemisphere till she retires
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day.
My thoughts go up the long dim path of years,
When not a shade of pain or ill,
Like the far roar of rivers,
Thy dark unfathomed wells below,
Of wintry storms, the sullen threat...
Meet in its depths no lovelier ones than ours.
It was for one--oh, only one!
Woo her, when autumnal dyes
Yet tell, in grandeur of decay
The eternal years of God are hers.
And childhood's purity and grace,
Are the folds of thy own young heart
Thy eyes are springs, in whose serene
Cool shades and dews are round my way,
Like one that loves thee nor will let thee pass,
A look of glad and innocent beauty wore.
"When the firmament quivers with daylight's young beam
I'll sing in his delighted ear!
Where, deep in silence and in moss,
Where secret tears have left their trace,
I turn, those gentle eyes to seek."
I turned to thee, for thou wert near;
How thought and feeling flowed like light!
Thy little heart will soon be
Catastrophical"A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers."
~From "Death By Water" in "The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot
"You're reminding me that once I was a woman and knew love; that eyes do more than see and I have none to do it for me."
~From "Eyes Do More Than See" by Isaac Asimov
"He's haunted by the memory of a lost paradise
In his youth or a dream, he can't be precise
He's chained forever to a world that's departed
It's not enough, it's not enough"
~From "Sorrow" by Pink Floyd
Hidden in the shadows where no one ever goes
Listening to the creak of time creeping by
Underneath everything that we assume is solid and strong
He is there
Listening to us
Are you listening to him?
As the rust steadily corrodes
Girders and beams
He waits alone
We ran away from the catastrophe
That day is forever darkened in our minds
Casting a pall on our very souls
Such was its terrible legacy
Empty boulevards f
Evergreen And EverlastingThis is polite society you're in.
In less than no time, tongue and pen,
Their murmur more like the sigh we sigh,
Fills me with fear I'll be left to my fate.
Two memories that long had lain
In snow and mist
A hundred miles away,
Is sadder than any words
That I might have sung.
Like a star fresh fallen out of the sky,
Its light poured softly in her lap,
Of almost too much love...
"I was looking for you-"
"No one can know how glad I am to find-"
"It is no miracle our mood is high."
With all this talk about the hope of youth,
When the boughs are right,
And by right divine-
Such auspices are very hard to read.
But one thing is sure,
To kiss and drink each other's breath
Is too much for the senses.
Then for years and years,
Our chance of being people newly born,
Of mingled butterfly and flower dust-
The play seems out for an almost infinite run;
Such as it is, it promises the prize.
The time was Autumn, but how anyone
Couldn't believe that so much black had come there,
Which shows how sad an