Post by Andorinha on Feb 7, 2009 10:47:25 GMT -6
OrigPoems, Gythia: The Completion
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Message 1 of 4 in Discussion
From: Gythia
Sent: 12/24/2002 10:58 AM
The first verse is a traditional rhyme. When I was a kid it always bugged me that there wasn't any more. Finally, many years later, I created "more." Lots more. Here it is.
The Completion
by Erin Lale
One misty moisty morning
When foggy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man
All dressed in leather.
His eye was bright and bonny,
And silver was his hair,
Two horns he bore above it,
And yet his head was bare.
No shiny helm upheld them;
His horns were fixed on fully.
His shoes were round and cloven
And his pants were brown and wooly.
"Oh Pan, you're aged and worn,"
I said, "How came this to be so?
Two horns you have upon your head,
But not one horn to blow."
"I lost it when they burned her.
They sang in their delirium,
And to a maypole bound her,
My lovely lady Miriam.
They laughed 'Where now's the horned one?'
My riddle, puzzle, koan.
They heaped fuel on the fairy mound
Of pine and oak and rowan.
And when they murdered Miriam,
Not one they killed but two,
For her love was like the roses
Beneath a sky of blue.
They knew a witch she must be
And gave her all their scorn
When they saw her belly swelling
From blowing on Pan's horn.
The fire was red on the hillside,
Her cheeks were flushed like wine,
Her hair and dress were flaming,
And the pole they used was mine.
All white was the ash that was blowing
When merry Miriam they slew.
When they burned my lady,
The Summer King burned too.
They broke the circle open
And snuffed the light it grew;
I would have been much younger
If I'd been born anew.
Oh, long did I cry for my lady,
And my hair turned ashen gray.
The flowers have shed their beauty
And the night has spurned the day.
continued in next post
__________________________________________________
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Message 2 of 4 in Discussion
From: Gythia
Sent: 12/24/2002 11:37 AM
(continued from previous post)
Nothing could bring me joy then:
No birdcall or glistening feather,
No pale green wave in the sunlight,
No sweet sigh of wind on the heather.
A thousand names had my lady;
A thousand names had I:
A thousand ine hundred ninety-eight names
That people dared not cry.
"Good Lord" say they and "Great Mother,"
And no other names at all,
For they've planted a flag on Diana
And Nike is chasing a ball.
Odin and Tyr and Frigga
And Thor the fighter of rime,
With his beard and his laugh and his hammer,
They've made into units of time.
Physicians still swear by Apollo,
But most take his name in vain.
They fear only lawsuits, not lightning,
If they cause their patients pain.
The people have worn and aged me.
They've quenched red Brigit's light,
Toppled Set's tall temple,
And kept all the dragons from flight.
They drove me into the northlands,
The people laughed at my loss,
They killed all the elves they found there,
And nailed Santa Claus to a cross.
A thousand years it's been
Since last my horn did blow.
Who now can find the horn I lost
A thousand years ago?"
"Sweet Pan!" I cried, "Fear nothing!
I'll look on every mountain,
And underneath the sea,
In every stream and fountain,
On beach and tree and roadway,
And in each field under ploush,
And every city and cottage.
I'll find your horn somehow!"
I looked in sagey deserts,
And in the hearts of palms,
In hats and cups and hands
Of children begging alms.
I looked in caves of crystal,
In whalespouts on the ocean,
In cinder-cones and trenches,
And never ceased my motion.
I looked in eagles' eyries
And in rockets in the sky,
And in a paramecium
With an electron eye.
I looked into the branches
Of the very Tree of Life,
To Hel and then to Hela,
And then to Hela's Knife.
In pyramids and pigsties,
Grand halls and hallowed groves,
And in a sporting-goods store,
And a bakery stacked with loaves.
By redwood, birch, and cedar,
By stream and stone and ford,
I searched and called and whistled
For the horn of the Lady's Lord.
I asked the trout in the river,
And the earthworm in garden,
And the moth that dances my campfires,
And the murderer begging pardon.
And then at a foggy sunrise,
I saw dear Pan again.
"I've looked in every sheepfold,
And every lion's den.
I've melted glacial ice,
And frozen ancient fire.
Dear Pan," I said, "it's nowhere,
Unless in your desire."
His eyes sparkled with hope then.
Pan drew himself upright.
"If desire will make me younger,
Let's dance to our delight!"
The morning grew warm and sunny,
And birds sang sweet and mildly.
We laughed to see our shadows
In the dance we danced so wildly.
Pan's hair bedewed with morning
Shone golden in the sun
As silver steam rose from it;
Two horns he had, plus one.
The End
____________________________________________________
Reply
Message 3 of 4 in Discussion
From: Olórië
Sent: 12/26/2002 12:51 PM
Gythia, I'm glad you hadn't heard this song when you were younger, since not hearing it inspired you to create a splendid completion of your own. But now you might be interested in seeing these lyrics to the song recorded by Steeleye Span in 1973:
One Misty Moisty Morning
Trad. Arr - Steeleye Span
from the album 'Parcel of Rogues'
One misty moisty morning when cloudy was the weather
I met with an old man a-clothed all in leather
He was clothed all in leather with a cap beneath his chin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
This rustic was a thresher as on his way he hied
And with a leather bottle fast buckled by his side
He wore no shirt upon his back but wool unto his skin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
I went a little further and there I met a maid
A-going a-milking a-milking sir she said
Then I began to compliment and she began to sing
Saying How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
This maid her name was Dolly clothed in a gown of grey
I being somewhat jolly persuaded her to stay
And straight I fell a-courting her in hopes her love to win
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
I having time and leisure, I spent a vacant hour
A-telling of my treasure while sitting in her bower
With many kind embraces I stroked her double chin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
I said that I would married be and she would be my bride
And long we should not tarry and twenty things beside
I'll plough and sow and reap and mow and you shall sit and spin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
Her parents then consented, all parties were agreed
Her portion thirty shillings, we married were with speed
Then Will the piper he did play whilst others dance and sing
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
Then lusty Ralph and Robin with many damsels gay
Did ride on roan and dobbins to celebrate the day
And when they met together their caps they off did fling
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do
And how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
______________________________________________________
Reply
Message 4 of 4 in Discussion
From: Gythia
Sent: 12/26/2002 1:29 PM
Cool! I've definitely never heard that.
______________________________________________________
Reply
Message 1 of 4 in Discussion
From: Gythia
Sent: 12/24/2002 10:58 AM
The first verse is a traditional rhyme. When I was a kid it always bugged me that there wasn't any more. Finally, many years later, I created "more." Lots more. Here it is.
The Completion
by Erin Lale
One misty moisty morning
When foggy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man
All dressed in leather.
His eye was bright and bonny,
And silver was his hair,
Two horns he bore above it,
And yet his head was bare.
No shiny helm upheld them;
His horns were fixed on fully.
His shoes were round and cloven
And his pants were brown and wooly.
"Oh Pan, you're aged and worn,"
I said, "How came this to be so?
Two horns you have upon your head,
But not one horn to blow."
"I lost it when they burned her.
They sang in their delirium,
And to a maypole bound her,
My lovely lady Miriam.
They laughed 'Where now's the horned one?'
My riddle, puzzle, koan.
They heaped fuel on the fairy mound
Of pine and oak and rowan.
And when they murdered Miriam,
Not one they killed but two,
For her love was like the roses
Beneath a sky of blue.
They knew a witch she must be
And gave her all their scorn
When they saw her belly swelling
From blowing on Pan's horn.
The fire was red on the hillside,
Her cheeks were flushed like wine,
Her hair and dress were flaming,
And the pole they used was mine.
All white was the ash that was blowing
When merry Miriam they slew.
When they burned my lady,
The Summer King burned too.
They broke the circle open
And snuffed the light it grew;
I would have been much younger
If I'd been born anew.
Oh, long did I cry for my lady,
And my hair turned ashen gray.
The flowers have shed their beauty
And the night has spurned the day.
continued in next post
__________________________________________________
Reply
Message 2 of 4 in Discussion
From: Gythia
Sent: 12/24/2002 11:37 AM
(continued from previous post)
Nothing could bring me joy then:
No birdcall or glistening feather,
No pale green wave in the sunlight,
No sweet sigh of wind on the heather.
A thousand names had my lady;
A thousand names had I:
A thousand ine hundred ninety-eight names
That people dared not cry.
"Good Lord" say they and "Great Mother,"
And no other names at all,
For they've planted a flag on Diana
And Nike is chasing a ball.
Odin and Tyr and Frigga
And Thor the fighter of rime,
With his beard and his laugh and his hammer,
They've made into units of time.
Physicians still swear by Apollo,
But most take his name in vain.
They fear only lawsuits, not lightning,
If they cause their patients pain.
The people have worn and aged me.
They've quenched red Brigit's light,
Toppled Set's tall temple,
And kept all the dragons from flight.
They drove me into the northlands,
The people laughed at my loss,
They killed all the elves they found there,
And nailed Santa Claus to a cross.
A thousand years it's been
Since last my horn did blow.
Who now can find the horn I lost
A thousand years ago?"
"Sweet Pan!" I cried, "Fear nothing!
I'll look on every mountain,
And underneath the sea,
In every stream and fountain,
On beach and tree and roadway,
And in each field under ploush,
And every city and cottage.
I'll find your horn somehow!"
I looked in sagey deserts,
And in the hearts of palms,
In hats and cups and hands
Of children begging alms.
I looked in caves of crystal,
In whalespouts on the ocean,
In cinder-cones and trenches,
And never ceased my motion.
I looked in eagles' eyries
And in rockets in the sky,
And in a paramecium
With an electron eye.
I looked into the branches
Of the very Tree of Life,
To Hel and then to Hela,
And then to Hela's Knife.
In pyramids and pigsties,
Grand halls and hallowed groves,
And in a sporting-goods store,
And a bakery stacked with loaves.
By redwood, birch, and cedar,
By stream and stone and ford,
I searched and called and whistled
For the horn of the Lady's Lord.
I asked the trout in the river,
And the earthworm in garden,
And the moth that dances my campfires,
And the murderer begging pardon.
And then at a foggy sunrise,
I saw dear Pan again.
"I've looked in every sheepfold,
And every lion's den.
I've melted glacial ice,
And frozen ancient fire.
Dear Pan," I said, "it's nowhere,
Unless in your desire."
His eyes sparkled with hope then.
Pan drew himself upright.
"If desire will make me younger,
Let's dance to our delight!"
The morning grew warm and sunny,
And birds sang sweet and mildly.
We laughed to see our shadows
In the dance we danced so wildly.
Pan's hair bedewed with morning
Shone golden in the sun
As silver steam rose from it;
Two horns he had, plus one.
The End
____________________________________________________
Reply
Message 3 of 4 in Discussion
From: Olórië
Sent: 12/26/2002 12:51 PM
Gythia, I'm glad you hadn't heard this song when you were younger, since not hearing it inspired you to create a splendid completion of your own. But now you might be interested in seeing these lyrics to the song recorded by Steeleye Span in 1973:
One Misty Moisty Morning
Trad. Arr - Steeleye Span
from the album 'Parcel of Rogues'
One misty moisty morning when cloudy was the weather
I met with an old man a-clothed all in leather
He was clothed all in leather with a cap beneath his chin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
This rustic was a thresher as on his way he hied
And with a leather bottle fast buckled by his side
He wore no shirt upon his back but wool unto his skin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
I went a little further and there I met a maid
A-going a-milking a-milking sir she said
Then I began to compliment and she began to sing
Saying How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
This maid her name was Dolly clothed in a gown of grey
I being somewhat jolly persuaded her to stay
And straight I fell a-courting her in hopes her love to win
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
I having time and leisure, I spent a vacant hour
A-telling of my treasure while sitting in her bower
With many kind embraces I stroked her double chin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
I said that I would married be and she would be my bride
And long we should not tarry and twenty things beside
I'll plough and sow and reap and mow and you shall sit and spin
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
Her parents then consented, all parties were agreed
Her portion thirty shillings, we married were with speed
Then Will the piper he did play whilst others dance and sing
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
Then lusty Ralph and Robin with many damsels gay
Did ride on roan and dobbins to celebrate the day
And when they met together their caps they off did fling
Singing How d'ya do and how d'ya do
And how d'ya do and how d'ya do again
______________________________________________________
Reply
Message 4 of 4 in Discussion
From: Gythia
Sent: 12/26/2002 1:29 PM
Cool! I've definitely never heard that.