The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 16 July 1932,
written by the very alcoholic Australian Poet Henry Kendall
By channels of coolness the echoes are calling,
And down the dim gorges I hear the creek falling:
It lives in the mountain where moss and the sedges
Touch with their beauty the banks and the ledges.
Through breaks of the cedar and sycamore bowers
Struggles the light that is love to the flowers;
And, softer than slumber, and sweeter than singing,
The notes of the bell-birds are running and ringing.
The silver-voiced bell birds, the darlings of daytime!
They sing in September their songs of the May-time;
When shadows wax strong, and the thunder bolts hurtle,
They hide with their fear in the leaves of the myrtle;
When rain and the sunbeams shine mingled together,
They start up like fairies that follow fair weather;
And straightway the hues of their feathers unfolden
Are the green and the purple, the blue and the golden.
October, the maiden of bright yellow tresses,
Loiters for love in these cool wildernesses;
Loiters, knee-deep, in the grasses, to listen,
Where dripping rocks gleam and the leafy pools glisten:
Then is the time when the water-moons splendid
Break with their gold, and are scattered or blended
Over the creeks, till the woodlands have warning
Of songs of the bell-bird and wings of the Morning.
Welcome as waters unkissed by the summers
Are the voices of bell-birds to the thirsty far-comers.
When fiery December sets foot in the forest,
And the need of the wayfarer presses the sorest,
Pent in the ridges for ever and ever
The bell-birds direct him to spring and to river,
With ring and with ripple, like runnels who torrents
Are toned by the pebbles and the leaves in the currents.
Often I sit, looking back to a childhood,
Mixt with the sights and the sounds of the wildwood,
Longing for power and the sweetness to fashion,
Lyrics with beats like the heart-beats of Passion; –
Songs interwoven of lights and of laughters
Borrowed from bell-birds in far forest-rafters;
So I might keep in the city and alleys
The beauty and strength of the deep mountain valleys:
Charming to slumber the pain of my losses
With glimpses of creeks and a vision of mosses.
And her red lips he fondly kissed
Beside the castle door,
And he rode away in the morning mist,
And he never saw her more!
The Feud: A Border Ballad
by Adam Lindsay Gordon (1833 – 1870)
In proverbs, mountains are the immobile backbone and framework of the world. They are the embodiment of Earth itself: immense, indifferent, givers and takers of life, eternal, everything that humanity is not. They are a ready symbol of anything overwhelming.
SPHINX ON STILTS
When I was twenty-one, I wrote in
‘The Problem of Evil’ of how the partisans
always rather feared an odd
irrelevance of farce – and that today
a thin dog like a sphinx on stilts
would follow them forever aimlessly.
― Jeff Wheeler, The Wretched of Muirwood
Dye mon, gen mon.
Beyond the mountains, more mountains.
And the kings and queens of the culture look down on you and say, “He’s got nothing else. Let him have another drink. She’s not doing anything with her life anyway. Pass her another blunt.”
But oh, no. Nothing for me. I have a meeting in the morning
― Rosita Forbes
“Whether you teach or live in the cloister or nurse the sick, whether you are in religion or out of it, married or single, no matter who you are or what you are, you are called to the summit of perfection: you are called to a deep interior life perhaps even to mystical prayer, and to pass the fruits of your contemplation on to others. And if you cannot do so by word, then by example.
Yet if this sublime fire of infused love burns in your soul, it will inevitably send forth throughout the Church and the world an influence more tremendous than could be estimated by the radius reached by words or by example.”
― Thomas Merton, The Seven Storey Mountain
“But when we consider how small after all the cup of human enjoyment is, how soon overflowed with tears, how easily drained to the dregs in our quenchless thirst for infinity, we shall not blame ourselves for making so much of the tea-cup.”
― Kakuzō Okakura, The Book of Tea
As an eclipse (or the dragon Rahu) seizes the sun, so has Saturn seized me.
Said when some disaster has occurred that cannot be accounted for. Rahu and Kethu are the dragons that are said to devour the sun at an eclipse.
"A classified collection of Tamil proverbs"
Dancing is the shortest distance between the souls of two people.
foto – dancers at bilambil sports club 2008. jan carr and the yesterbeats.
Our way is not soft grass, it’s a mountain path with lots of rocks. But it goes upwards, forward, toward the sun.
Dr. Ruth Westheimer
ty MEDAWAR HOME PAGE
foto – mt warning from bilambil heights 2008