Saturday, July 16, 2005

To walk with Death and Morning on the silver horns

The title is from a poem by Tennyson titled "Come down, O Maid." Follow the link if you feel inspired to read the entire piece, but here's the portion of interest today.
For Love is of the valley, come thou down
And find him; by the happy threshold, he,

Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize,

Or red with spirited purple of the vats,

Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk

With Death and Morning on the silver horns,

Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine,

Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice,
That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls

To roll the torrent out of dusky doors
Where do you look when in search of love, friendship, meaning or spirit? One school of thought would tell you that every search must begin within one's self, and there is certainly something to be said for that. Critical self examination and appreciate are very likely prerequisite to the ability to appreciate others. Tennyson, however, goes beyond that stage. He insists that we must leave our own haunts and travel new roads if we are in search of such an elusive goal. Also, that we should avoid those who embrace the negative, which they will only reflect back on us if we allow it.

nor cares to walk with Death and Morning on the silver horns

This guy was born nearly 200 years ago. (1809 -1890) It's funny how people back then could look through a simpler, cleaner lens than we seem to be able to muster today. The visions they found there were somehow more beautiful as well.

What am I on about today, you ask? I have no idea. Just something simple and lovely for a Saturday morning which I thought you might like to ruminate upon.

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