Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Dream Road

Corner of Hickory Avenue & Baxter Street Road ~
Neosho, Missouri
Photographed by Rebecca Sprigg ~
my childhood friend and neighbor

Poem #XL.
from A Shropshire Lad

Into my heart on air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.


A. E. Houseman (1859 - 1936)

P. S. Adding a bit of humor to Houseman's sad, serious poem:

When pulling this post together, I was struggling to move Becky's Neosho photo from my desktop to my Kodak file, though I knew I had executed the exact same maneuver only recently. Now what step in the process was I forgetting? When I succeeded at last and was able to add the "cartoon fun effect," I forwarded the result to my husband Gerry, along with the Houseman poem.

He wrote back right away: "Now is the poem describing your feelings at getting the picture to work?"

And I replied: "Well, I was going for the "Dream Road" effect, but I guess it works either way! However, it turned out to be so easy, it was more like the land of "found content" ~ now if only I can remember next time, instead of having to re-invent the wheel!"

Thus Gerry was inspired to compose:

Into my heart on air that kills
From yon far desktop blows:
What are those blue remembered files,
What pics, what clicks are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy file structures where I went
And cannot come again.


W. G. McCartney

Thanks Ger!

***********

P. P. S. On the serious side:
Recent Fortnightly post
on A. E. Houseman:
"Daffodils of Autumn"

And here we have . . .
Another Dream Road, Another Story, Another Time

2 comments:

  1. Very clever Gerry. I love both poems and is it just me or did that hill behind Few Acres seem much steeper when we lived there? And it's paved now, too. Much easier to sled down when it snows. Thanks for sharing this post.

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  2. I remember autumn afternoons on that hill, picking up walnuts. And yes, it seemed much steeper then. I guess the whole world is larger, when viewed through the eyes of a seven-year old boy. The eyes of a seven-year old boy...talk about places we cannot come again.

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