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In the Orchard-Days, when you
Children look like blossoms, too,
Bessie, with her jaunty ways
And trim poise of head and face,
Must have looked superior
Even to the blossoms, – for
Little Winnie once averred
Bessie looked just like the bird
Tilted on the topmost spray
Of the apple boughs in May.
With the redbreast, and the strong
Clear, sweet warble of his song  –
“I don’t know their name,” Win said –
“I ist maked a name instead.” –
So forever afterwards
We called robins “Bessie-birds.”

mWjRlAm
Honest tongues;
Honest way of life;
Honest weights.

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photo by Jean Scheijen at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mWjRlAm/Oma%27s+Old+Weights

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* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/
——————–

© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

Why should I keep holiday
When other men have none?
Why but because, when these are gay,
I sit and mourn alone?

And why, when mirth unseals all tongues,
Should mine alone be dumb?
Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs,
And now their hour has come.

nZ1d434

A man and a woman are separated on a darkened stage, then get closer together and finally meet.  Positions ( )

(1)           (2)           (3)(3)             (2)             (1)

The light shines on the one singing and on neither during the chorus, except in the last position.  There, the light shines on the man and does not go off as the light then shines also on the woman, and on both during the chorus.

(1) M: I sit and sing a lonesome song,
My life is hard and cold.
I sometimes think I’ll never have
A special girl to hold.

(1) F: There’s nights when I can’t fall asleep,
One pillow on my bed,
The only shoulder for my grief
And bitter tears I shed.

Chorus:
M: But one day
F: Someday
M: Says my mind
F: Perhaps I’ll find
M: And then I’ll know,
F: I’ll surely know.
M: And holding hands
F: Through life we’ll go.
M: I’ll love her so.
F: I’ll love him so.

(2) M: I’d give a rib to have a mate;
I’d even give an arm.
This lonely life I’m leading now
Brings my heart far more harm.

(2) F: I know that I have love to give,
But none to give it to.
I ache to find a man for me
With whom to go life through.

Chorus:
M: But one day
F: Someday
M: Says my mind
F: Perhaps I’ll find
M: And then I’ll know,
F: I’ll surely know.
M: And holding hands
F: Through life we’ll go.
M: I’ll love her so.
F: I’ll love him so.

(3) M: I sometimes think she is so near,
That she can hear my cry,
And I could see her lovely face
If I would harder try.

(3) F: The curtain has been lifted;
My sorrow veil is gone.
The warmth and brightness flooding
Is a new loving dawn.

Chorus:
M: And one day
F: This day
M: Says my mind
F: I now have found
M: And I now know
F: I surely know.
M: And holding hands
F: Through life we’ll go.
M: I’ll love you so.
F: I’ll love you so.

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photo by Eve Blackwood at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nZ1d434/frame+with+hearts

————————————–

© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England’s pleasant pastures seen?

And did the countenance divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among these dark Satanic mills?

Bring me my  bow of burning gold!
Bring me my arrows of desire!
Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!

I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England’s green and pleasant land.

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields –
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum;
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!

n31ZSzw

In your life,
Is there anyone
At the helm?

——————–

photo by Karen Andrews at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/n31ZSzw/ships+wheel

——————–

* The haiku I write are lines of 3-5-3 syllables instead of 5-7-5.

See Haiku article here for explanation, if needed: https://thebardonthehill.wordpress.com/2011/08/08/haiku/
——————–

© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

“The wind doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true-love,
In cold grave she was lain.

I’ll do as much for my true-love
As any young man may;
I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.”

The twelvemonth and a day being up,
The dead began to speak:
“Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?”

“‘Tis, I, my love, sits on your grave,
And I will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
And that is all I seek.”

“You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.

‘Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that ere was seen
Is withered to a stalk.

The stalk is withered dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.”

15898838946_e0315931cb_o

(The seige of the Alamo ended 181 years ago
on March 6, 1836 when the Alamo fell and its
defenders were killed.)

This story of heroes all free men should know,
Of last stand of eagles protecting their nest –
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

They stood in the way of an armed Mexico,
Like dunes on a beach slow a wave’s swollen crest.
This story of heroes all free men should know.

Surrounded, out-numbered, hope melting like snow,
They proved to the world that it’s freedom that’s best.
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

An offer, by Travis, to stay or to go.
Those brave men stepped forward and Texas was blessed.
This story of heroes all free men should know.

Deguello, no quarter, was played by the foe
Yet nary a champion abandoned the quest.
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

A Crockett, a Bowie, and others cut low
In glory and honor are their names now dressed
This story of heroes all free men should know.
Remember the men of the famed Alamo.

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The photo is mine.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question “Whither?”

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?