NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.
Barry says that he doesn't like it when his name is spelled wrong, or when his poems are posted without his permission.
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.
Barry says that he doesn't like it when his name is spelled wrong, or
when his poems are posted without his permission.
George Dunce stole Barry Cornwall/Bryan Waller Procter's poem. Will
Donkey spelled Barry/Bryan's last name wrong. Is there any end to
their incompetence?
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.
Barry says that he doesn't like it when his name is spelled wrong, or when his poems are posted without his permission.
George Dunce stole Barry Cornwall/Bryan Waller Procter's poem. Will Donkey spelled Barry/Bryan's last name wrong. Is there any end to their incompetence?
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
nancygene.andjayme@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (NancyGene) wrote in news:Rv-dneZld_MPfsb0nZ2dnZfqn_GdnZ2d@giganews.com:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.
Barry says that he doesn't like it when his name is spelled wrong, or
when his poems are posted without his permission.
George Dunce stole Barry Cornwall/Bryan Waller Procter's poem. Will
Donkey spelled Barry/Bryan's last name wrong. Is there any end to
their incompetence?
Does infinity end, Grasshopper?
--
"Post-editing someone's statement before replying to it is a sure sign
that you have already lost the argument." - Little Willie Douchebag gets another asskicking from Pendragon
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
nancygene.andjayme@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (NancyGene) wrote in
news:Rv-dneZld_MPfsb0nZ2dnZfqn_GdnZ2d@giganews.com:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.
Barry says that he doesn't like it when his name is spelled wrong,
or when his poems are posted without his permission.
George Dunce stole Barry Cornwall/Bryan Waller Procter's poem. Will
Donkey spelled Barry/Bryan's last name wrong. Is there any end to
their incompetence?
Does infinity end, Grasshopper?
No, Master Po. Also, George Dunce got the name of the poem wrong. If
he was going to steal poems from us, he could at least get the title
right. What are three errors called in Kung Fu? We asked George
Dunce's Trusted Source:
"In Kung Fu training, the concept of "three errors and you're out"
isn't a formal, universal term but reflects a principle of safe
training where a first mistake is normal, a second mistake signals
deep fatigue or distraction (requiring a break), and a third mistake
(or repeated errors) means you're too exhausted or unfocused to
continue safely, often leading to rest or stopping. While not a
specific phrase like "triple fault," it's the idea that persistent
mistakes (e.g., poor stance, rushing, negative self-talk) show you're
pushing beyond your current limits and need to reset."
IOW George Dunce is out of his league, punching above his weight, and outmatched. He should go back to Moose Herding.
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
nancygene.andjayme@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (NancyGene) wrote in news:MjOdnWp15rEI1MH0nZ2dnZfqnPSdnZ2d@giganews.com:
Cujo DeSockpuppet wrote:
nancygene.andjayme@gmail-dot-com.no-spam.invalid (NancyGene) wrote in
news:Rv-dneZld_MPfsb0nZ2dnZfqn_GdnZ2d@giganews.com:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
NancyGene wrote:
2. PART THE SECOND.*
I."A SONG FOR THE NEW YEAR.
by Barry Cornwall
Hark!
The Old Year is gone!
And the young New Year is coming!
Through minutes, and days, and unknown skies,
My soul on her forward journey flies;
Over the regions of rain and snow;
And beyond where the wild March-trumpets blow:
And I see the meadows, all cowslip-strewn;
And I dream of the dove in the greenwood lone;
And the wild bee humming:"
And all because the New Year is coming!
The Winter is cold, the Winter is gray,
But he hath not a sound on his tongue to-day:
The son of the stormy Autumn, he
Totters about on a palsied knee,
With a frozen heart and a feeble head:
Let us pierce a barrel and drink him dead!
The fresh New Year is almost here;
Let us warm him with mistletoe boughs, my dear!
Let us welcome him hither, with songs and wine,
Who holdeth such joys in his arms divine!
2
What is the Past,"to you, or me,
But a thing that was, and was to be?
And now it is gone to a world unknown;
Its deeds are done; its flight is flown!
Hark to The Past! In a bitter tone,
It crieth rCLThe good Old Year is flown,rCY"
The sire of a thousand thoughtful hours,
Of a thousand songs, of a thousand flowers!
Ah! why, thou ungrateful child of rhyme,
Rail'st thou at the deeds of our father Time?
Hath he not fed thee, day by day,
With fancies that soothe thy soul alway?
Hath he not 'wakened, with pleasant pain,
The Muse that slept in thy teeming brain?
Hath he not"ah! dost thou forget
All the amount of the mighty debt?
Hush, hush!"The little I owe to Time
I'll pay him, some day, with a moody rhyme,"
Full of phantasmas, dark and drear,
As the shadows thrown down by the old Old Year,"
Dim as the echoes that lately fell
From the deep Night's funereal bell,
Sounding hollow o'er hill and vale,
Like the close of a mournful tale!
. . . . In the meantime,"speak, trump and drum!
The Year is gone! the Year is come!
The fresh New Year, the bright New Year,
That telleth of hope and joy, my dear!
Let us model our spirit to chance and change,
Let us lesson our spirit to hope, and range
Through plonsuros to come,"years unknown;
But never forget the time that's flown!
*from "English Songs, and Other Small Poems"
By Barry Cornwall
(1787-)
Attached portrait by William Brockedon (1830)
Barry told us that he is honored that we posted his poem.
Barry says that he doesn't like it when his name is spelled wrong,
or when his poems are posted without his permission.
George Dunce stole Barry Cornwall/Bryan Waller Procter's poem. Will
Donkey spelled Barry/Bryan's last name wrong. Is there any end to
their incompetence?
Does infinity end, Grasshopper?
No, Master Po. Also, George Dunce got the name of the poem wrong. If
he was going to steal poems from us, he could at least get the title
right. What are three errors called in Kung Fu? We asked George
Dunce's Trusted Source:
"In Kung Fu training, the concept of "three errors and you're out"
isn't a formal, universal term but reflects a principle of safe
training where a first mistake is normal, a second mistake signals
deep fatigue or distraction (requiring a break), and a third mistake
(or repeated errors) means you're too exhausted or unfocused to
continue safely, often leading to rest or stopping. While not a
specific phrase like "triple fault," it's the idea that persistent
mistakes (e.g., poor stance, rushing, negative self-talk) show you're
pushing beyond your current limits and need to reset."
IOW George Dunce is out of his league, punching above his weight, and
outmatched. He should go back to Moose Herding.
This is begging for a graphic picture of George moose herding. And of
course, failing.
That would f***ing rule, Beavis.
In the meantime...enjoy.
Beavis: Rooted in the Tao
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lUDVIXTuzik
--
"Post-editing someone's statement before replying to it is a sure sign
that you have already lost the argument." - Little Willie Douchebag gets another asskicking from Pendragon
| Sysop: | Amessyroom |
|---|---|
| Location: | Fayetteville, NC |
| Users: | 54 |
| Nodes: | 6 (0 / 6) |
| Uptime: | 13:47:04 |
| Calls: | 742 |
| Files: | 1,218 |
| D/L today: |
3 files (2,681K bytes) |
| Messages: | 183,470 |
| Posted today: | 1 |