Into my heart an air that kills From yon far country blows: What are those blue remembered hills, What spires, what farms are those? This is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain. The happy highways where I went And cannot come again. - A.E. Housman (1859-1936)

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

At Jacob's Lake

 
 
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1 Comments:

Blogger Sir Paul said...

Oops, I just came across your MGB comment, so I will now reply to it.
I grew up in a little town outside of Manchester. The town is called Oldham. It used to be famous for the output of its cotton mills, one of the reasons England sided with the South in your civil war. Unfortunately it is now known for the racial tensions between white Englishmen and the Asian(Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi)immigrants who are slow to, if not totally opposed to, integrating into English society in a way that does not turn Britain into a member of the third world.
I find it quite interesting when reading your bio/profile how much we have in common. A.E.Housman was one of my favourite poets at school. I particularly remember the one about the Athlete dying young and how his town carried him on their shoulders after his great victory and how , at last, he was carried on their shoulders one more time when he came back from the war, but not carried the same way of course.
The other one that I remember started off something like(excuse the bad memory please)
Look not in my eyes for fear that you will see
Reflected in them a vision of yourself,
And fall, hopelessly in love, like me.....
Now even if I did not get that perfectly right isn't that a great sentiment. What a success he must have been with the ladies.

11:22 PM

 

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