At Church This Morning

February 1, 2009 · 3 comments

Scott and I will be at church this morning, as I mentioned in yesterday’s post

Today’s reading will be from the Gospel According to (Robert) Frost:

Pan With Us

Pan came out of the woods one day—
His skin and his hair and his eyes were gray,
The gray of the moss of walls were they—
     And stood in the sun and looked his fill
     At wooded valley and wooded hill.

He stood in the zephyr, pipes in hand,
On a height of naked pasture land;
In all the country he did command
     He saw no smoke and he saw no roof.
     That was well! and he stamped a hoof.

His heart knew peace, for none came here
To this lean feeding, save once a year
Someone to salt the half-wild steer,
     Or homespun children with clicking pails
     Who see no little they tell no tales.

He tossed his pipes, too hard to teach
A new-world song, far out of reach,
For a sylvan sign that the blue jay’s screech
     And the whimper of hawks beside the sun
     Were music enough for him, for one.

Times were changed from what they were:
Such pipes kept less of power to stir
The fruited bough of the juniper
     And the fragile bluets clustered there
     Than the merest aimless breath of air.

They were pipes of pagan mirth,
And the world had found new terms of worth.
He laid him down on the sun-burned earth
     And ravelled a flower and looked away—
     Play? Play?—What should he play?

{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }

Scott February 2, 2009 at 12:04

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Dylan Thomas


BRIAN February 2, 2009 at 13:40

All I need is one blunt, one page, and one pen
One prayer – tell God forgive for one sin
Matter fact maybe more than one, look back
at all the hatred against me, fuck alla them
Jesus died at age 33, there’s thirty-three shots
from twin glocks there’s sixteen apiece, that’s thirty-two
Which means, one of my guns was holdin 17
Twenty-seven hit your crew, six went into you



Scott February 3, 2009 at 10:44

Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.

John Muir


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