You brought back a blessed memory of this – 'tis your raven-coloured hair:
The Highwayman
------Loreena McKennitt
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon the cloudy seas
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
And the highwayman came riding, riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark innyard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight,
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell shall bar the way.
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of the perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet waves in the moonlight!)
He tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon,
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching, marching, marching
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side!
there was death at every window, hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement,
The road that he would ride.
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"now keep good watch!" And they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say
"Look for me by the moonlight, watch for me by the moonlight
I'll come to thee by the moonlight, though hell shall bar the way!"
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled by like years!
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
Tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horses hoofs ring clear
Tlot-tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding, riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming!
She stood up straight and still!
Tlot in the frosty silence! Tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight, her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter, the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
And back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were the spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
when they shot him down on the highway, down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding, riding, riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.- - -
But, that was a heavy-hearted song of a love that lasted forever and beyond, and was paid for in blood. There are other loves, that last forever and beyond, and are earned by earnest and endearing folk, taking life as it floats by the way; floats by the way:
And what more love than this of childhood, of slow movement along the days winding ways, winding on riverulets, and etc, and etc, and thus, this retelling of that most beloved and lyrical and poetic of all the children's tales, as retold by the Scotsman, Van Morrison:
Piper At The Gates Of Dawn
------Van Morrison
The coolness of the riverbank, and the whispering of the reeds
Daybreak is not so very far away
Enchanted and spellbound, in the silence they lingered
And rowed the boat as the light grew steadily strong
And the birds were silent, as they listened for the heavenly music
And the river played the song
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The song dream happened and the cloven hoofed piper
Played in that holy ground where they felt the awe and wonder
And they all were unafraid of the great god Pan
And the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
When the vision vanished they heard a choir of birds singing
In the heavenly silence between the trance and the reeds
And they stood upon the lawn and listened to the silence
Of the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
It's the wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn
The wind in the willows and the piper at the gates of dawn- - -
And, because I swear I heard it this way, the ulalean pipes, when they enter into to the song (last verse, of course) play the same theme as was played by that goldest, warmest, delriously delicious love song sung by Sting, that when once heard (time the first) is not only never forgotten, but too is the then love rememered, and with the elements aligned, relieved, relived, relished and begotten (and forever):
Sting Fields Of Gold Lyrics
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
But mostly because you remain now even, and perhaps for all your days, a hopefuly romantic, that this one 'tis the one, I must assume, that your father loved you, and you he loved, and that your father loved your mother even more than he loves life itself (sung by father to daughter)
And finally, because I'd be doing you (and me) a disservice by ending so positively, take this one to heart and remember, not all loves are meant to last foever; some of them merely hurt that long.
Trisha Yearwood, Lying To The Moon Lyrics
I watch the sun going down
While I stand on sacred ground
Where once the night found us
In the twilight of our love
You said you'd meet me here
And I'm all alone
You sounded so sincere
Did you lead me on
I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do
I even told the night you were true
And you would be here soon
And now I'm lying to the moon
And so the night takes me in
Like a sympathetic friend
And sends the wind through the trees
So the willow weeps for me
The shadows fool my eyes
And I think I see you
Then they start to cry
Don't you know they believed you
I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do
I even told the night you were true
And you would be here soon
And now I'm lying to the moon
I told the starry sky to wait for you
I told the wind to sigh like lovers do
I even told the night you were true
And you would be here soon
And now I'm lying to the moon
- - - - -
And, because finally and ultimately, this was hands down and far away my favorite Mama's & the Papa's song – and there is an element of ambiguity here that makes me scratch my skill and chin.
- - - - -
Mamas & The Papas Lyrics
I used to live in new york city
Every thing there was dark and dirty
Outside my window was a steeple
With a clock that always said 12:30
Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.
At first so strange to feel so friendly
To say good morning and really mean it
To feel these changes happening in me
But not to notice till I feel it.
Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.
Cloudy waters cast no reflection
Images of beauty lie there stagnant
Vibrations bounce in no direction
And lie there shattered into fragments.
Young girls are coming to the canyon
And in the morning I can see them walking
I can no longer keep my blinds drawn
And I can’t keep myself from talking.
- - - - -
So, Cindy, if any of these touched your heart even just a little, then I did a good today. If any of these brought tears of relief to your eyes; forgive me; I did not intend to make you cry (except that I know that all actions have consequences).
It was nice meeting you.
Good Night, and
Good Luck
Enjoy and find delight
Mark
OOPs, almost forgot: this is your totem
The Raven
by Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
" 'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;
Only this, and nothing more."Ah, distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow, sorrow for the lost Lenore,.
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore,
Nameless here forevermore.And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me---filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door,
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door.
This it is, and nothing more."Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is, I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you." Here I opened wide the door;---
Darkness there, and nothing more.Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,
Lenore?, This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,
"Lenore!" Merely this, and nothing more.Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,
"Surely," said I, "surely, that is something at my window lattice.
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.
" 'Tis the wind, and nothing more."Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven, of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door.
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, wandering from the nightly shore.
Tell me what the lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore."
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door,
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."But the raven, sitting lonely on that placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered; not a feather then he fluttered;
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before;
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore,---
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never---nevermore."But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore --
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl, whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er
She shall press, ah, nevermore!Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee -- by these angels he hath
Sent thee respite---respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, O quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!""Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil!--prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate, yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted--
On this home by horror haunted--tell me truly, I implore:
Is there--is there balm in Gilead?--tell me--tell me I implore!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore.""Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil--prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us--by that God we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden, whom the angels name Lenore---
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore.""Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! -- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the raven, "Nevermore."And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming.
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted---nevermore!
