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Among the Millet and Other Poems by Archibald Lampman

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Among the Millet and Other Poems

By Archibald Lampman

Though fancy and the might of rhyme,
That turneth like the tide,
Have borne me many a musing time,
Beloved, from thy side.

Ah yet, I pray thee, deem not, Sweet,
Those hours were given in vain;
Within these covers to thy feet
I bring them back again.

Among the Millet
An October Sunset
The Frogs
An Impression
Spring on the River
Why do ye call the Poet lonely
Among the Timothy
Morning on the Lievres
In October
Lament of the Winds
Ballade of Summer's Sleep
Winter Hues Recalled
Song of the Stream-Drops
Between the Rapids
New Year's Eve
One Day
Three Flower Petals
A Ballade of Waiting
Before Sleep
A Song
What Do Poets Want With Gold?
The King's Sabbath
The Little Handmaiden
Abu Midjan
The Weaver
The Three Pilgrims
The Coming of Winter
Easter Eve
The Organist
The Monk
The Child's Music Lesson
An Athenian Reverie

Perfect Love
A Prayer
An Old Lesson from the Fields
The Poets
The Truth
The Martyrs
A Night of Storm
The Railway Station
A Forecast
In November
The City
Midsummer Night
The Loons
Autumn Maples
The Dog

The dew is gleaming in the grass,
The morning hours are seven,
And I am fain to watch you pass,
Ye soft white clouds of heaven.

Ye stray and gather, part and fold;
The wind alone can tame you;
I think of what in time of old
The poets loved to name you.

They called you sheep, the sky your sward,
A field without a reaper;
They called the shining sun your lord,
The shepherd wind your keeper.

Your sweetest poets I will deem
The men of old for moulding
In simple beauty such a dream,
And I could lie beholding,

Where daisies in the meadow toss,
The wind from morn till even,
Forever shepherd you across
The shining field of heaven.

Pale season, watcher in unvexed suspense,
Still priestess of the patient middle day,
Betwixt wild March's humored petulance
And the warm wooing of green kirtled May,
Maid month of sunny peace and sober grey,
Weaver of flowers in sunward glades that ring
With murmur of libation to the spring:

As memory of pain, all past, is peace,
And joy, dream-tasted, hath the deepest cheer,
So art thou sweetest of all months that lease
The twelve short spaces of the flying year.
The bloomless days are dead, and frozen fear
No more for many moons shall vex the earth,
Dreaming of summer and fruit laden mirth.

The grey song-sparrows full of spring have sung
Their clear thin silvery tunes in leafless trees;
The robin hops, and whistles, and among
The silver-tasseled poplars the brown bees
Murmur faint dreams of summer harvestries:
The creamy sun at even scatters down
A gold-green mist across the murmuring town.

By the slow streams the frogs all day and night
Dream without thought of pain or heed of ill,
Watching the long warm silent hours take flight,
And ever with soft throats that pulse and thrill,
From the pale-weeded shallows trill and trill,
Tremulous sweet voices, flute-like, answering
One to another glorying in the spring.

All day across the ever-cloven soil,
Strong horses labour, steaming in the sun,
Down the long furrows with slow straining toil,
Turning the brown of clean layers; and one by one
The crows gloom over them till daylight done
Finds them asleep somewhere in dusked lines
Beyond the wheatlands in the northern pines.

The old year's cloaking of brown leaves, that bind
The forest floor-ways, plated close and true--
The last love's labour of the autumn wind--
Is broken with curled flower buds white and blue
In all the matted hollows and speared through
With thousand serpent-spotted blades up-sprung,
Yet bloomless, of the slender adder-tongue.

In the warm noon the south wind creeps and cools,
Where the red-budded stems of maples throw
Still tangled etchings on the amber pools,
Quite silent now, forgetful of the slow
Drip of the taps, the troughs, and trampled snow,
The keen March mornings, and the silvering rime
And mirthful labour of the sugar prime.

Ah, I have wandered with unwearied feet,
All the long sweetness of an April day,
Lulled with cool murmurs and the drowsy beat
Of partridge wings in secret thickets grey,
The marriage hymns of all the birds at play,
The faces of sweet flowers, and easeful dreams
Beside slow reaches of frog-haunted streams;

Wandered with happy feet, and quite forgot
The shallow toil, the strife against the grain,
Near souls, that hear us call, but answer not,
The loneliness, perplexity and pain,
And high thoughts cankered with an earthly stain
And then the long draught emptied to the lees,
I turn me homeward in slow pacing ease,

Cleaving the cedar shadows and the thin
Mist of grey gnats that cloud the river shore,
Sweet even choruses, that dance and spin
Soft tangles in the sunset; and once more
The city smites me with its dissonant roar.
To its hot heart I pass, untroubled yet,
Fed with calm hope, without desire or fret.

So to the year's first alter step I bring
Gifts of meek song, and make my spirit free
With the blind working if unanxious spring,
Careless with her, whether the days that flee
Pale drouth or golden-fruited plenty see,
So that we toil, brothers, without distress,
In calm-eyed peace and god-like blamelessness.

One moment, the slim cloudflakes seem to lean
With their sad sunward faces aureoled,
And longing lips set downward brightening
To take the last sweet hand kiss of the king,
Gone down beyond the closing west acold;
Paying no reverence to the slender queen,
That like a curved olive leaf of gold
Hangs low in heaven, rounded toward sun,
Or the small stars that one by one unfold
Down the gray border of the night begun.

Breathers of wisdom won without a quest,
Quaint uncouth dreamers, voices high and strange,
Flutists of land where beauty hath no change,
And wintery grief is a forgotten guest,
Sweet murmurers of everlasting rest,
For whom glad days have ever yet to run,
And moments are as aeons, and the sun
But ever sunken half-way toward the west.

Often to me who heard you in your day,
With close wrapt ears, it could not choose but seem
That earth, our mother, searching in that way,
Men's hearts might know her spirit's inmost dream,
Ever at rest beneath life's change and stir,
Made you her soul, and bade you pipe for her.

In those mute days when spring was in her glee,
And hope was strong, we know not why or how,
And earthy, the mother, dreamed with brooding brow.
Musing on life, and what the hours might be,
When loves should ripen to maternity,
Then like high flutes in silvery interchange
Ye piped with voices still and sweet and strange,
And ever as ye piped, on every tree

The great buds swelled; among the pensive woods
The spirits of first flowers awoke and flung
From buried faces the close fitting hoods,
And listened to your pining till they fell,
The frail spring-beauty with her perfumed bell,
The wind-flower, and the spotted adder-tongue.

All the day long, wherever pools might be
Among the golden meadows, where the air
Stood in a dream, as it were moored there
Forever in a noon-tide reverie,
Or where the bird made riot of their glee
In the still woods, and the hot sun shone down,
Crossed with warm lucent shadows on the brown
Leaf-paven pools, that bubbled dreamily,

Or far away in whispering river meads
And watery marshes where the brooding noon,
Full with the wonder of its own secret boon,
Nestled and slept among the noiseless reeds,
Ye sat and murmured, motionless as they,
With eyes that dreamed beyond the night and day.

And when day passed and over heaven's height,
Thin with the many stars and cool with dew,
The fingers of the deep hours slowly drew
The wonder of the ever-healing night,
No grief or loneliness or wrapt delight
Or weight of silence ever brought to you
Slumber or rest; only your voices grew
More high and solemn; slowly with hushed flight

Ye saw the echoing hours go by, long-drawn,
Nor ever stirred, watching the fathomless eyes,
And with your countless clear antiphonies
Filling the earth and heaven, even till dawn,
Last-risen, found you with its first pale gleam,
Still with soft throats unaltered in your dream.

And slowly as we heard you, day by day,
The stillness of enchanted reveries
Bound brain and spirit and half-closed eyes,
In some divine sweet wonder-dream astray;
To us no sorrow or upreared dismay
Nor any discord came, but evermore
The voices of mankind, the outer roar,
Grew strange and murmurous, faint and far away.

Morning and noon and midnight exquisitely,
Wrapt with your voices, this alone we knew,
Cities might change and fall, and men might die,
Secure were we, content to dream with you,
That change and pain are shadows faint and fleet,
And dreams are real, and life is only sweet.

I heard the city time-bells call
Far off in hollow towers,
And one by one with measured fall
Count out the old dead hours;

I felt the march, the silent press
Of time, and held my breath;
I saw the haggard dreadfulness
Of dim old age and death.

O sun, shine hot on the river;
For the ice is turning an ashen hue,
And the still bright water is looking through,
And the myriad streams are greeting you
With a ballad of life to the giver,
From forest and field and sunny town,
Meeting and running and tripping down,
With laughter and song to the river.

Oh! the din on the boats by the river;
The barges are ringing while day avails,
With sound of hewing and hammering nails,
Planing and painting and swinging pails,
All day in their shrill endeavor;
For the waters brim over their wintry cup,
And the grinding ice is breaking up,
And we must away down the river.

Oh! the hum and the toil of the river;
The ridge of the rapid sprays and skips:
Loud and low by the water's lips,
Tearing the wet pines into strips,
The saw mill is moaning ever.
The little grey sparrow skips and calls
On the rocks in the rain of the water falls,
And the logs are adrift in the river.

Oh! restlessly whirls the river;
The rivulets run and the cataract drones:
The spiders are flitting over the stones:
Summer winds float and the cedar moans;
And the eddies gleam and quiver.
O sun; shine hot, shine long and abide
In the glory and power of the summer tide
On the swift longing face of the river.

Why do ye call the poet lonely,
Because he dreams in lonely places?
He is not desolate, but only
Sees, where ye cannot, hidden faces.

From plains that reel to southward, dim,
The road runs by me white and bare;
Up the steep hill it seems to swim
Beyond, and melt into the glare.
Upward half way, or it may be
Nearer the summit, slowly steals
A hay-cart, moving dustily
With idly clacking wheels.

By his cart's side the wagoner
Is slouching slowly at his ease,
Half-hidden in the windless blur
Of white dust puffing to his knees.
This wagon on the height above,
From sky to sky on either hand,
Is the sole thing that seems to move
In all the heat-held land.

Beyond me in the fields the sun
Soaks in the grass and hath his will;
I count the marguerites one by one;
Even the buttercups are still.
On the brook yonder not a breath
Disturbs the spider at the midge.
The water-bugs draw close beneath
The cool gloom of the bridge.

Where the far elm-tree shadows flood
Dark patches in the burning grass,
The cows, each with her peaceful cud,
Lie waiting for the heat to pass.
From somewhere on the slope near by
Into the pale depth of the noon
A wandering thrush slides leisurely
His thin revolving tune.

In intervals of dreams I hear
The cricket from the droughty ground;
The grass-hoppers spin into mine ear
A small innumerable sound.
I lift my eyes somewhat to gaze:
The burning sky-line blinds my sight:
The woods far off are blue with haze:
The hills are drenched in light.

And yet to me not this or that
Is always sharp or always sweet;
In the sloped shadow of my hat
I lean at rest, and drain the heat;
Nay more, I think some blessed power
Hath brought me wandering idly here:
In the full furnace of this hour
My thoughts grow keen and clear.

Long hours ago, while yet the morn was blithe,
Nor sharp athirst had drunk the beaded dew,
A reaper came, and swung his cradled scythe
Around this stump, and, shearing slowly, drew
Far round among the clover, ripe for hay,
A circle clean and grey;
And here among the scented swathes that gleam,
Mixed with dead daisies, it is sweet to lie
And watch the grass and the few-clouded sky,
Nor think but only dream.

For when the noon was turning, and the heat
Fell down most heavily on field and wood,
I too came hither, borne on restless feet,
Seeking some comfort for an echoing mood.
Ah, I was weary of the drifting hours,
The echoing city towers,
The blind grey streets, the jingle of the throng,
Weary of hope that like a shape of stone,
Sat near at hand without a smile or moan,
And weary most of song.

And those high moods of mine that someone made
My heart a heaven, opening like a flower,
A sweeter world where I in wonder strayed,
Begirt with shapes of beauty and the power
Of dreams that moved through that enchanted clime
With changing breaths of rhyme,
Were all gone lifeless now like those white leaves.
That hang all winter, shivering dead and blind
Among the sinewy beeches in the wind,
That vainly calls and grieves.

Ah! I will set no more mine overtasked brain
To barren search and toil that beareth nought,
Forever following with sorefooted pain
The crossing pathways of unbourned thought;
But let it go, as one that hath no skill,
To take what shape it will,
An ant slow-burrowing in the earthy gloom,
A spider bathing in the dew at morn,
Or a brown bee in wayward fancy borne
From hidden bloom to bloom.

Hither and thither o'er the rocking grass
The little breezes, blithe as they are blind,
Teasing the slender blossoms pass and pass,
Soft-footed children of the gipsy wind,
To taste of every purple-fringed head
Before the bloom is dead;
And scarcely heed the daisies that, endowed
With stems so short they cannot see, up-bear
Their innocent sweet eyes distressed, and stare
Like children in a crowd.

Not far to fieldward in the central heat,
Shadowing the clover, a pale poplar stands
With glimmering leaves that, when the wind comes, beat
Together like innumerable small hands,
And with the calm, as in vague dreams astray,
Hang wan and silver-grey;
Like sleepy maenads, who in pale surprise,
Half-wakened by a prowling beast, have crept
Out of the hidden covert, where they slept,
At noon with languid eyes.

The crickets creak, and through the noonday glow,
That crazy fiddler of the hot mid-year,
The dry cicada plies his wiry bow
In long-spun cadence, thin and dusty sere:
From the green grass the small grasshoppers' din
Spreads soft and silvery thin:
And ever and anon a murmur steals
Into mine ears of toil that moves alway,
The crackling rustle of the pitch-forked hay
And lazy jerk of wheels.

As so I lie and feel the soft hours a wane,
To wind and sun and peaceful sound laid bare,
That aching dim discomfort of the brain
Fades off unseen, and shadowy-footed care
Into some hidden corner creeps at last
To slumber deep and fast;
And gliding on, quite fashioned to forget,
From dream to dream I bid my spirit pass
Out into the pale green ever-swaying grass
To brood, but no more fret.

And hour by hour among all shapes that grow
Of purple mints and daisies gemmed with gold
In sweet unrest my visions come and go;
I feel and hear and with quiet eyes behold;
And hour by hour, the ever-journeying sun,
In gold and shadow spun,
Into mine eyes and blood, and through the dim
Green glimmering forest of the grass shines down,
Till flower and blade, and every cranny brown,
And I are soaked with him.

Out of the heart of the city begotten
Of the labour of men and their manifold hands,
Whose souls, that were sprung from the earth in her morning,
No longer regard or remember her warning,
Whose hearts in the furnace of care have forgotten
Forever the scent and the hue of her lands;

Out of the heat of the usurer's hold,
From the horrible crash of the strong man's feet;
Out of the shadow were pity is dying;
Out of the clamour where beauty is lying,
Dead in the depth of the struggle for gold;
Out of the din and the glare of the street;

Into the arms of our mother we come,
Our broad strong mother, the innocent earth,
Mother of all things beautiful, blameless,
Mother of hopes that her strength makes tameless,
Where the voices of grief and of battle are dumb,
And the whole world laughs with the light of her mirth.

Over the fields, where the cool winds sweep,
Black with the mould and brown with the loam,
Where the thin green spears of the wheat are appearing,
And the high-ho shouts from the smoky clearing;
Over the widths, where the cloud shadows creep;
Over the fields and the fallows we come;

Over the swamps with their pensive noises,
Where the burnished cup of the marigold gleams;
Skirting the reeds, where the quick winds shiver
On the swelling breast of the dimpled river,
And the blue of the king-fisher hangs and poises,
Watching a spot by the edge of the streams;

By the miles of the fences warped and dyed
With the white-hot noons and their withering fires,
Where the rough bees trample the creamy bosoms
Of the hanging tufts of the elder blossoms,
And the spiders weave, and the grey snakes hide,
In the crannied gloom of the stones and the briers;

Over the meadow land sprouting with thistle,
Where the humming wings of the blackbirds pass,
Where the hollows are banked with the violets flowering,
And the long-limbed pendulous elms are towering,
Where the robins are loud with their voluble whistle,
And the ground sparrow scurries away through the grass,

Where the restless bobolink loiters and woos
Down in the hollows and over the swells,
Dropping in and out of the shadows,
Sprinkling his music about the meadows,
Whistles and little checks and coos,
And the tinkle of glassy bells;

Into the dim woods full of the tombs
Of the dead trees soft in their sepulchres,
Where the pensive throats of the shy birds hidden,
Pipe to us strangely entering unbidden,
And tenderly still in the tremulous glooms
The trilliums scatter their white-winged stars;

Up to the hills where our tired hearts rest,
Loosen, and halt, and regather their dreams;
Up to the hills, where the winds restore us,
Clearing our eyes to the beauty before us,
Earth with the glory of life on her breast,
Earth with the gleam of her cities and streams.

Here we shall commune with her and no other;
Care and the battle of life shall cease;
Men her degenerate children behind us,
Only the might of her beauty shall bind us,
Full of rest, as we gaze on the face of our mother,
Earth in the health and the strength of her peace.

Far above us where a jay
Screams his matins to the day,
Capped with gold and amethyst,
Like a vapour from the forge
Of a giant somewhere hid,
Out of hearing of the clang
Of his hammer, skirts of mist
Slowly up the wooden gorge
Lift and hang.

Softly as a cloud we go,
Sky above and sky below,
Down the river, and the dip
Of the paddles scarcely breaks,
With the little silvery drip
Of the water as it shakes
From the blades, the crystal deep
Of the silence of the morn,
Of the forest yet asleep;
And the river reaches borne
In a mirror, purple grey,
Sheer away
To the misty line of light,
Where the forest and the stream
In a shadow meet and plight,
Like a dream.

From amid a stretch of reeds,
Where the lazy river sucks
All the water as it bleeds
From a little curling creek,
And the muskrats peer and sneak
In around the sunken wrecks
Of a tree that swept the skies
Long ago,
On a sudden seven ducks
With a splashy rustle rise,
Stretching out their seven necks,
One before, and two behind,
And the others all arow,
And as steady as the wind
With a snivelling whistle go,
Through the purple shadow led,
Till we only hear their whir
In behind a rocky spur,
Just ahead.

Along the waste, a great way off, the pines,
Like tall slim priests of storm, stand up and bar
The low long strip of dolorous red that lines
The under west, where wet winds moan afar.
The cornfields all are brown, and brown the meadows
With the blown leaves' wind-heaped traceries,
And the brown thistle stems that cast no shadows,
And bear no bloom for bees.

As slowly earthward leaf by red leaf slips,
The sad leaves rustle in chill misery,
A soft strange inner sound of pain-crazed lips,
That move and murmur incoherently;
As if all leaves, that yet have breath, were sighing,
With pale hushed throats, for death is at the door,
So many low soft masses for the dying
Sweet leaves that live no more.

Here I will sit upon this naked stone,
Draw my coat closer with my numbed hands,
And hear the ferns sigh, and the wet woods moan,
And send my heart out to the ashen lands;
And I will ask myself what golden madness,
What balmed breaths of dreamland spicery,
What visions of soft laughter and light sadness
Were sweet last month to me.

The dry dead leaves flit by with thin weird tunes,
Like failing murmurs of some conquered creed,
Graven in mystic markings with strange runes,
That none but stars and biting winds may read;
Here I will wait a little; I am weary,
Not torn with pain of any lurid hue,
But only still and very gray and dreary,
Sweet sombre lands, like you.

We in sorrow coldly witting,
In the bleak world sitting, sitting,
By the forest, near the mould,
Heard the summer calling, calling,
Through the dead leaves falling, falling,
That her life grew faint and old.

And we took her up, and bore her,
With the leaves that moaned before her,
To the holy forest bowers,
Where the trees were dense and serried,
And her corpse we buried, buried,
In the graveyard of the flowers.

Now the leaves, as death grows vaster,
Yellowing deeper, dropping faster,
All the grave wherein she lies
With their bodies cover, cover,
With their hearts that love her, love her,
For they live not when she dies:

And we left her so, but stay not
Of our tears, and yet we may not,
Though they coldly thickly fall,
Give the dead leaves any, any,
For they lie so many, many,
That we cannot weep for all.

Sweet summer is gone; they have laid her away--
The last sad hours that were touched with her grace--
In the hush where the ghosts of the dead flowers play;
The sleep that is sweet of her slumbering space
Let not a sight or a sound erase
Of the woe that hath fallen on all the lands:
Gather, ye dreams, to her sunny face,
Shadow her head with your golden hands.

The woods that are golden and red for a day
Girdle the hills in a jewelled case,
Like a girl's strange mirth, ere the quick death slay
The beautiful life that he hath in chase.
Darker and darker the shadows pace
Out of the north to the southern sands,
Ushers bearing the winter's mace:
Keep them away with your woven hands.

The yellow light lies on the wide wastes gray,
More bitter and cold than the winds that race,
From the skirts of the autumn, tearing away,
This way and that way, the woodland lace.
In the autumn's cheek is a hectic trace;
Behind her the ghost of the winter stands;
Sweet summer will moan in her soft gray place:
Mantle her head with your glowing hands.

Till the slayer be slain and the spring displace
The might of his arms with her rose-crowned bands,
Let her heart not gather a dream that is base:
Shadow her head with your golden hands.

The long days came and went; the riotous bees
Tore the warm grapes in many a dusty vine,
And men grew faint and thin with too much ease,
And Winter gave no sign:
But all the while beyond the northmost woods
He sat and smiled and watched his spirits play
In elfish dance and eery roundelay,
Tripping in many moods
With snowy curve and fairy crystal shine.

But now the time is come: with southward speed
The elfin spirits pass: a secret sting
Hath fallen and smitten flower and fruit and weed,
And every leafy thing.
The wet woods moan: the dead leaves break and fall;
In still night-watches wakeful men have heard
The muffled pipe of many a passing bird,
High over hut and hall,
Straining to southward and unresting wing.

And then they come with colder feet, and fret
The winds with snow, and tuck the streams to sleep
With icy sheet and gleaming coverlet,
And fill the valleys deep
With curved drifts, and a strange music raves
Among the pines, sometimes in wails, and then
In whistled laughter, till affrighted men
Draw close, and into caves
And earthy holes the blind beasts curl and creep.

And so all day above the toiling heads
Of men's poor chimneys, full of impish freaks,
Tearing and twisting in tight-curled shreds
The vain unnumbered reeks,
The Winter speeds his fairies forth and mocks
Poor bitten men with laughter icy cold,
Turning the brown of youth to white and old
With hoary-woven locks,
And grey men young with roses in their cheeks.

And after thaws, when liberal water swells
The bursting eaves, he biddeth drip and grow
The curly horns of ribbed icicles
In many a beard-like row.
In secret moods of mercy and soft dole,
Old warped wrecks and things of mouldering death
That summer scorns and man abandoneth
His careful hands console
With lawny robes and draperies of snow.

And when the night comes, his spirits with chill feet,
Winged with white mirth and noiseless mockery,
Across men's pallid windows peer and fleet,
And smiling silverly
Draw with mute fingers on the frosted glass
Quaint fairy shapes of iced witcheries,
Pale flowers and glinting ferns and frigid trees
And meads of mystic grass,
Graven in many an austere phantasy.

But far away the Winter dreams alone,
Rustling among his snow-drifts, and resigns
Cold fondling ears to hear the cedars moan
In dusky-skirted lines
Strange answers of an ancient runic call;
Or somewhere watches with antique eyes,
Gray-chill with frosty-lidded reveries,
The silvery moonshine fall
In misty wedges through the girth of pines.

Poor mortals haste and hide away: creep soon
Into your icy beds: the embers die:
And on your frosted panes the pallid moon
Is glimmering brokenly.
Mutter faint prayers that spring will come e'erwhile,
Scarring with thaws and dripping days and nights
The shining majesty of him that smites
And slays you with a smile
Upon his silvery lips, of glinting mockery.

Life is not all for effort: there are hours,
When fancy breaks from the exacting will,
And rebel though takes schoolboy's holiday,
Rejoicing in its idle strength. 'Tis then,
And only at such moments, that we know
The treasure of hours gone--scenes once beheld,
Sweet voices and words bright and beautiful,
Impetuous deeds that woke the God within us,
The loveliness of forms and thoughts and colors,
A moment marked and then as soon forgotten.
These things are ever near us, laid away,
Hidden and waiting the appropriate times,
In the quiet garner-house of memory.
There in the silent unaccounted depth,
Beneath the heated strainage and the rush
That teem the noisy surface of the hours,
All things that ever touched us are stored up,
Growing more mellow like sealed wine with age;
We thought them dead, and they are but asleep.
In moments when the heart is most at rest
And least expectant, from the luminous doors,
And sacred dwelling place of things unfeared,
They issue forth, and we who never knew
Till then how potent and how real they were,
Take them, and wonder, and so bless the hour.

Such gifts are sweetest when unsought. To me,
As I was loitering lately in my dreams,
Passing from one remembrance to another,
Like him who reads upon an outstretched map,
Content and idly happy, these rose up,
Out of that magic well-stored picture house,
No dream, rather a thing most keenly real,
The memory of a moment, when with feet,
Arrested and spell bound, and captured eyes,
Made wide with joy and wonder, I beheld
The spaces of a white and wintery land
Swept with the fire of sunset, all its width,
Vale, forest, town, and misty eminence,
A miracle of color and of beauty.

I had walked out, as I remember now,
With covered ears, for the bright air was keen,
To southward up the gleaming snow-packed fields,
With the snowshoer's long rejoicing stride,
Marching at ease. It was a radiant day
In February, the month of the great struggle
'Twixt sun and frost, when with advancing spears,
The glittering golden vanguard of the spring
Holds the broad winter's yet unbroken rear
In long-closed wavering contest. Thin pale threads
Like streaks of ash across the far off blue
Were drawn, nor seemed to move. A brooding silence
Kept all the land, a stillness as of sleep;
But in the east the grey and motionless woods,
Watching the great sun's fiery slow decline,
Grew deep with gold. To westward all was silver.
An hour had passed above me; I had reached;
The loftiest level of the snow-piled fields,
Clear eyed, but unobservant noting not,
That all the plain beneath me and the hills
Took on a change of colour, splendid, gradual,
Leaving no spot the same; nor that the sun
Now like a fiery torrent overflamed
The great line of the west. Ere yet I turned
With long stride homeward, being heated
With the loose swinging motion, weary too,
Nor uninclined to rest, a buried fence,
Whose topmost log just shouldered from the snow,
Made me a seat, and thence with heated cheeks,
Grazed by the northwind's edge of stinging ice,
I looked far out upon the snow-bound waste,
The lifting hills and intersecting forests,
The scarce marked courses of the buried streams,
And as I looked I list memory of the frost,
Transfixed with wonder, overborne with joy.
I saw them in their silence and their beauty;
Swept by the sunset's rapid hand of fire,
Sudden, mysterious, every moment deepening
To some new majesty of rose or flame.
The whole broad west was like molten sea
Of crimson. In the north the light-lined hills
Were veiled far off as with a mist of rose
Wondrous and soft. Along the darkening east
The gold of all the forests slowly changed
To purple. In the valley far before me,
Low sunk in sapphire shadows, from its hills,
Softer and lovelier than an opening flower,
Uprose a city with its sun-touched towers,
A bunch of amethysts.

Like one spell-bound
Caught in the presence of some god, I stood,
Nor felt the keen wind and the deadly air,
But watched the sun go down, and watched the gold
Fade from the town and the withdrawing hills,
Their westward shapes athwart the dusky red
Freeze into sapphire, saw the arc of rose
Rise ever higher in the violet east,
Above the frore front of the uprearing night
Remorsefully soft and sweet. Then I awoke
As from a dream, and from my shoulders shook
The warning chill, till then unfelt, unfeared.

Out of the grey northwest, where many a day gone by
Ye tugged and howled in your tempestuous grot,
And evermore the huge frost giants lie,
Your wizard guards in vigilance unforgot,
Out of the grey northwest, for now the bonds are riven,
On wide wings your thongless flight is driven,
That lulls but resteth not.

And all the grey day long, and all the dense wild night
Ye wheel and hurry with the sheeted snow,
By cedared waste and many a pine-dark height,
Across white rivers frozen fast below;
Over the lonely forests, where the flowers yet sleeping
Turn in their narrow beds with dreams of weeping
In some remembered woe;

Across the unfenced wide marsh levels, where the dry
Brown ferns sigh out, and last year's sedges scold
In some drear language, rustling haggardly
Their thin dead leaves and dusky hoods of gold;
Across grey beechwoods where the pallid leaves unfalling
In the blind gusts like homeless ghosts are calling
With voices cracked and old;

Across the solitary clearings, where the low
Fierce gusts howl through the blinded woods, and round
The buried shanties all day long the snow
Sifts and piles up in many a spectral mound;
Across lone villages in eery wilderness
Whose hidden life no living shape confesses
Nor any human sound;

Across the serried masses of dim cities, blown
Full of the snow that ever shifts and swells,
While far above them all their towers of stone
Stand and beat back your fierce and tyrannous spells,
And hour by hour send out, like voices torn and broken
Of battling giants that have grandly spoken,
The veering sound of bells;

So day and night, oh wind, with hiss and moan you fleet,
Where once long gone on many a green-leafed day
Your gentler brethren wandered with light feet
And sang with voices soft and sweet as they,
The same blind thought that you with wilder might are speaking,
Seeking the same strange thing that you are seeking
In this your stormier way.

Oh wind, wild-voiced brother, in your northern cave,
My spirit also being so beset
With pride and pain, I heard you beat and rave,
Grinding your chains with furious howl and fret,
Knowing full well that all earth's moving things inherit
The same chained might and madness of the spirit,
That none may quite forget.

You in your cave of snows, we in our narrow girth
Of need and sense, forever chafe and pine;
Only in moods of some demonic birth
Our souls take fire, our flashing wings untwine;
Even like you, mad wind, above our broken prison,
With streaming hair and maddened eyes uprisen,
We dream ourselves divine;

Mad moods that come and go in some mysterious way,
That flash and fall, none knoweth how or why,
Oh wind, our brother, they are yours to-day,
The stormy joy, the sweeping mastery;
Deep in our narrow cells, we hear you, we awaken,
With hands afret and bosoms strangely shaken,
We answer to your cry.

I most that love you, wind, when you are fierce and free,
In these dull fetters cannot long remain;
Lo, I will rise and break my thongs and flee
Forth to your drift and beating, till my brain
Even for an hour grow wild in your divine embraces,
And then creep back into mine earthly traces,
And bind me with my chain.

Nay, wind, I hear you, desperate brother, in your might
Whistle and howl; I shall not tarry long,
And though the day be blind and fierce, the night
Be dense and wild, I still am glad and strong
To meet you face to face; through all your gust and drifting
With brow held high, my joyous hands uplifting,
I cry you song for song.

From where I sit, I see the stars,
And down the chilly floor
The moon between the frozen bars
Is glimmering dim and hoar.

Without in many a peaked mound
The glinting snowdrifts lie;
There is no voice or living sound;
The embers slowly die.

Yet some wild thing is in mine ear;
I hold my breath and hark;
Out of the depth I seem to hear
A crying in the dark:

No sound of man or wife or child,
No sound of beasts that groans,
Or of the wind that whistles wild,
Or of the trees that moans:

I know not what it is I hear;
I bend my head and hark:
I cannot drive it from mine ear,
That crying in the dark.

By silent forest and field and mossy stone,
We come from the wooden hill, and we go to the sea.
We labour, and sing sweet songs, but we never moan,
For our mother, the sea, is calling us cheerily.
We have heard her calling us many and many a day
From the cool grey stones and the white sands far away.

The way is long, and winding and slow is the track,
The sharp rocks fret us, the eddies bring us delay,
But we sing sweet songs to our mother, and answer her back;
Gladly we answer our mother, sweetly repay.
Oh, we hear, we hear her singing wherever we roam,
Far, far away in the silence, calling us home.

Poor mortal, your ears are dull, and you cannot hear;
But we, we hear it, the breast of our mother abeat;
Low, far away, sweet and solemn and clear,
Under the hush of the night, under the noon-tide heat:
And we sing sweet songs to our mother, for so we shall please her best,
Songs of beauty and peace, freedom and infinite rest.

We sing, and sing, through the grass and the stones and the reeds,
And we never grow tired, though we journey ever and aye,
Dreaming, and dreaming, wherever the long way leads,
Of the far cool rocks and the rush of the wind and the spray.
Under the sun and the stars we murmur and dance and are free,
And we dream and dream of our mother, the width of the sheltering sea.

The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills
The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,
And on our ears from deep among the hills
Breaks now the rapid's sudden quickening roar.
Ah yet the same, or have they changed their face,
The fair green fields, and can it still be seen,
The white log cottage near the mountain's base,
So bright and quiet, so home-like and serene?
Ah, well I question, for as five years go,
How many blessings fall, and how much woe.

Aye there they are, nor have they changed their cheer,
The fields, the hut, the leafy mountain brows;
Across the lonely dusk again I hear
The loitering bells, the lowing of the cows,
The bleat of many sheep, the stilly rush
Of the low whispering river, and through all,
Soft human tongues that break the deepening hush
With faint-heard song or desultory call:
Oh comrades hold; the longest reach is past;
The stream runs swift, and we are flying fast.

The shore, the fields, the cottage just the same,
But how with them whose memory makes them sweet?
Oh if I called them, hailing name by name,
Would the same lifts the same old shouts repeat?
Have the rough years, so big with death and ill,
Gone lightly by and left them smiling yet?
Wild black-eyed Jeanne whose tongue was never still,
Old wrinkled Picaud, Pierre and pale Lisette,
The homely hearts that never cared to range,
While life's wide fields were filled with rush and change.

And where is Jacques, and where is Verginie?
I cannot tell; the fields are all a blur.
The lowing cows whose shapes I scarcely see,
Oh do they wait and do they call for her?
And is she changed, or is her heart still clear
As wind or morning, light as river foam?
Or have life's changes borne her far from here,
And far from rest, and far from help and home?
Ah comrades, soft, and let us rest awhile,
For arms grow tired with paddling many a mile.

The woods grow wild, and from the rising shore
The cool wind creeps, the faint wood odours steal;
Like ghosts down the rivers blackening floor
The misty fumes begin to creep and reel.
Once more I leave you, wandering toward the night,
Sweet home, sweet heart, that would have held me in;
Whither I go I know not, and the light
Is faint before, and rest is hard to win.
Ah sweet ye were and near to heaven's gate;
But youth is blind and wisdom comes too late.

Blacker and loftier grow the woods, and hark!
The freshening roar! The chute is near us now,
And dim the canyon grows, and inky dark
The water whispering from the birchen prow.
One long last look, and many a sad adieu,
While eyes can see and heart can feel you yet,
I leave sweet home and sweeter hearts to you,
A prayer for Picaud, one for pale Lisette,
A kiss for Pierre, my little Jacques, and thee,
A sigh for Jeanne, a sob for Verginie.

Oh, does she still remember? Is the dream
Now dead, or has she found another mate?
So near, so dear; and ah, so swift the stream;
Even now perhaps it were not yet too late.
But oh, what matter; for before the night
Has reached its middle, we have far to go:
Bend to your paddles, comrades; see, the light
Ebbs off apace; we must not linger so.
Aye thus it is! Heaven gleams and then is gone
Once, twice, it smiles, and still we wander on.

Once on the year's last eve in my mind's might
Sitting in dreams, not sad, nor quite elysian,
Balancing all 'twixt wonder and derision,
Methought my body and all this world took flight,
And vanished from me, as a dream, outright;
Leaning out thus in sudden strange decision,
I saw as it were in the flashing of a vision,
Far down between the tall towers of the night,
Borne by great winds in awful unison,
The teeming masses of mankind sweep by,
Even as a glittering river with deep sound
And innumerable banners, rolling on
Over the starry border glooms that bound
The last gray space in dim eternity.

And all that strange unearthly multitude
Seemed twisted in vast seething companies,
That evermore with hoarse and terrible cries
And desperate encounter at mad feud
Plunged onward, each in its implacable mood
Borne down over the trampled blazonries
Of other faiths and other phantasies,
Each falling furiously, and each pursued;
So sped they on with tumult vast and grim,
But ever meseemed beyond them I could see
White-haloed groups that sought perpetually
The figure of one crowned and sacrificed;
And faint, far forward, floating tall and dim,
The banner of our Lord and Master, Christ.

All day upon the garden bright
The suns shines strong,
But in my heart there is no light,
Or any song.

Voices of merry life go by,
Adown the street;
But I am weary of the cry
And drift of feet.

With all dear things that ought to please
The hours are blessed,
And yet my soul is ill at ease,
And cannot rest.

Strange spirit, leave me not too long,
Nor stint to give,
For if my soul have no sweet song,
It cannot live.

Songs that could span the earth,
When leaping thought had stirred them,
In many an hour since birth,
We heard or dreamed we heard them.

Sometimes to all their sway
We yield ourselves half fearing,
Sometimes with hearts grown grey
We curse ourselves for hearing.

We toil and but begin;
In vain our spirits fret them,
We strive, and cannot win,
Nor evermore forget them.

A light that will not stand,
That comes and goes in flashes,
Fair fruits that in the hand
Are turned to dust and ashes.

Yet still the deep thoughts ring
Around and through and through us,
Sweet mights that make us sing,
But bring no resting to us.

The trees rustle; the wind blows
Merrily out of the town;
The shadows creep, the sun goes
Steadily over and down.

In a brown gloom the moats gleam;
Slender the sweet wife stands;
Her lips are red; her eyes dream;
Kisses are warm on her hands.

The child moans; the hours slip
Bitterly over her head:
In a gray dusk, the tears drip;
Mother is up there--dead.

The hermit hears the strange bright
Murmur of life at play;
In the waste day and waste night
Times to rebel and to pray.

The laborer toils in gray wise,
Godlike and patient and calm;
The beggar moans; his bleared eyes
Measure the dust in his palm.

The wise man, marks the flow and ebb
Hidden and held aloof:
In his deep mind is laid the web,
Shuttles are driving the woof.

If any man, with sleepless care oppressed,
On many a night had risen, and addressed
His hand to make him out of joy and moan
An image of sweet sleep in carven stone,
Light touch by touch, in weary moments planned,
He would have wrought her with a patient hand,
Not like her brother death, with massive limb
And dreamless brow, unstartled, changeless, dim,
But very fair, though fitful and afraid,
More sweet and slight than any mortal maid.
Her hair he would have carved a mantle smooth
Down to her tender feet to wrap and soothe
All fevers in, yet barbed here and there
With many a hidden sting of restless care;
Her brow most quiet, thick with opiate rest,
Yet watchfully lined, as if some hovering guest
Of noiseless doubt were there; so too her eyes
His light hand would have carved in cunning wise
Broad with all languor of the drowsy South,
Most beautiful, but held askance; her mouth
More soft and round than any rose half-spread,
Yet ever twisted with some nervous dread.
He would have made her with one marble foot,
Frail as a snow-white feather, forward put,
Bearing sweet medicine for all distress,
Smooth languor and unstrung forgetfulness;
The other held a little back for dread;
One slender moonpale hand held forth to shed
Soft slumber dripping from its pearly tip
Into wide eyes; the other on her lip.
So in the watches of his sleepless care
The cunning artist would have wrought her fair;
Shy goddess, at keen seeking most afraid
Yet often coming, when we last have prayed.

When saw I yesterday walking apart
In a leafy place where the cattle wait?
Something to keep for a charm in my heart--
A little sweet girl in a garden gate.
Laughing she lay in the gold sun's might,
And held for a target to shelter her,
In her little soft fingers, round and white,
The gold-rimmed face of a sunflower.

Laughing she lay on the stone that stands
For a rough-hewn step in that sunny place,
And her yellow hair hung down to her hands,
Shadowing over her dimpled face.
Her eyes like the blue of the sky, made dim
With the might of the sun that looked at her,
Shone laughing over the serried rim,
Golden set, of the sunflower.

Laughing, for token she gave to me
Three petals out of the sunflower;--
When the petals are withered and gone, shall be
Three verses of mine for praise of her,
That a tender dream of her face may rise
And lighten me yet in another hour,
Of her sunny hair and her beautiful eyes,
Laughing over the golden sunflower.

As a weed beneath the ocean,
As a pool beneath a tree
Answers with each breath or motion
An imperious mastery;

So my spirit swift with passion
Finds in every look a sign,
Catching in some wondrous fashion
Every mood that governs thine.

In a moment it will borrow,
Flashing in a gusty train,
Laughter and desire and sorrow
Anger and delight and pain.

No girdle hath weaver or goldsmith wrought
So rich as the arms of my love can be;
No gems with a lovelier lustre fraught
Than her eyes, when they answer me liquidly.
Dear lady of love, be kind to me
In days when the waters of hope abate,
And doubt like a shimmer on sand shall be,
In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.

Sweet mouth, that the wear of the world hath taught
No glitter of wile or traitorie,
More soft than a cloud in the sunset caught,
Or the heart of a crimson peony;
Oh turn not its beauty away from me;
To kiss it and cling to it early and late
Shall make sweet minutes of days that flee,
In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.

Rich hair, that a painter of old had sought
For the weaving of some soft phantasy,
Most fair when the streams of it run distraught
On the firm sweet shoulders yellowly;
Dear Lady, gather it close to me,
Weaving a nest for the double freight
Of cheeks and lips that are one and free,
For the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.

So time shall be swift till thou mate with me,
For love is mightiest next to fate,
And none shall be happier, Love, than we,
In the year yet, Lady, to dream and wait.

Now the creeping nets of sleep
Stretch about and gather nigh,
And the midnight dim and deep
Like a spirit passes by,
Trailing from her crystal dress
Dreams and silent frostiness.

Yet a moment, ere I be
Tangled in the snares of night,
All the dreamy heart of me
To my Lady takes its flight,
To her chamber where she lies,
Wrapt in midnight phantasies.

Over many a glinting street
And the snow capped roofs of men,
Towers that tremble with the beat
Of the midnight bells, and then,
Where my body may not be,
Stands my spirit holily.

Wake not, Lady, wake not soon:
Through the frosty windows fall
Broken glimmers of the moon
Dimly on the floor and wall;
Wake not, Lady, never care,
'Tis my spirit kneeling there.

Let him kneel a moment now,
For the minutes fly apace;
Let him see the sleeping brow,
And the sweetly rounded face:
He shall tell me soon aright
How my lady looks to-night.

How her tresses out and in
Fold in many a curly freak,
Round about the snowy chin
And the softly tinted cheek,
Where no sorrows now can weep,
And the dimples lie asleep.

How her eyelids meet and match,
Gathered in two dusky seams,
Each the little creamy thatch
Of an azure house of dreams,
Or two flowers that love the light
Folded softly up at night.

How her bosom, breathing low,
Stirs the wavy coverlet
With a motion soft and slow:
Oh, my Lady, wake not yet;
There without a thought of guile
Let my spirit dream a while.

Yet, my spirit back to me,
Hurry soon and have a care;
Love will turn to agony,
If you rashly linger there;
Bending low as spirits may,
Touch her lips and come away.

So, fond spirit, beauty-fed,
Turning when your wave is o'er,
Weave a cross above the bed
And a sleep-rune on the floor,
That no evil enter there,
Ugly shapes and dreams beware.

Then, ye looming nets of sleep,
Ye may have me all your own,
For the night is wearing deep
And the ice-winds whisk and moan;
Come with all your drowsy stress,
Dreams and silent frostiness.

Oh night and sleep,
Ye are so soft and deep,
I am so weary, come ye soon to me.
Oh hours that creep,
With so much time to weep,
I am so tired, can ye no swifter be?

Come, night, anear;
I'll whisper in thine ear
What makes me so unhappy, full of care;
Dear night, I die
For love that all men buy
With tears, and know not it is dark despair.

Dear night, I pray,
How is it that men say
That love is sweet? It is not sweet to me.
For one boy's sake
A poor girl's heart must break;
So sweet, so true, and yet it could not be!

Oh, I loved well,
Such love as none can tell:
It was so true, it could not make him know:
For he was blind,
All light and all unkind:
Oh, had he known, would he have hurt me so?

Oh night and sleep,
Ye are so soft and deep,
I am so weary, come ye soon to me.
Oh hours that creep,
With so much time to weep,
I am so tired, can ye no swifter be?

What do poets want with gold,
Cringing slaves and cushioned ease;
Are not crusts and garments old
Better for their souls than these?

Gold is but the juggling rod
Of a false usurping god,
Graven long ago in hell
With a sombre stony spell,
Working in the world forever.
Hate is not so strong to sever
Beating human heart from heart.
Soul from soul we shrink and part,
And no longer hail each other
With the ancient name of brother
Give the simple poet gold,
And his song will die of cold.
He must walk with men that reel
On the rugged path, and feel
Every sacred soul that is
Beating very near to his.
Simple, human, careless, free,
As God made him, he must be:
For the sweetest song of bird
Is the hidden tenor heard
In the dusk, an even-flush,
From the forest's inner hush,
Of the simple hermit thrush.

What do poets want with love?
Flowers that shiver out of hand,
And the fervid fruits that prove
Only bitter broken sand?

Poets speak of passion best,
When their dreams are undistressed,
And the sweetest songs are sung,
E'er the inner heart is stung.
Let them dream; 'tis better so;
Ever dream, but never know.
If the their spirits once have drained
All that goblet crimson-stained,
Finding what they dreamed divine,
Only earthly sluggish wine,
Sooner will the warm lips pale,
And the flawless voices fail,
Sooner come the drooping wing,
And the afterdays that bring,
No such songs as did the spring.

Once idly in his hall king Olave sat
Pondering, and with his dagger whittled chips;
And one draw near to him with austere lips,
Saying "To-morrow is Monday," and at that
The king said nothing, but held forth his flat
Broad palm, and bending on his mighty hips,
Took up and mutely laid thereon the slips
Of scattered wood, as on a hearth, and gat
From off the embers near, a burning brand.
Kindling the pile with this, the dreaming Dane
Sat silent with his eyes set and his bland
Proud mouth, tight-woven, smiling drawn with pain,
Watching the fierce fire flare, and wax, and wane,
Hiss and burn down upon his shrivelled hand.

The King's son walks in the garden fair--
Oh, the maiden's heart is merry!
He little knows for his toil and care,
That the bride is gone and the bower is bare.
Put on garments of white, my maidens!

The sun shines bright through the casement high--
Oh, the maiden's heart is merry!
The little handmaid, with a laughing eye,
Looks down on the king's son, strolling by.
Put on garments of white, my maidens!

"He little knows that the bride is gone,
And the Earl knows little as he;
She is fled with her lover afar last night
And the King's son is left to me."

And back to her chamber with velvety step
The little handmaid did glide,
And a gold key took from her bosom sweet,
And opened the great chests wide.

She bound her hair with a band of blue,
And a garland of lilies sweet;
And put on her delicate silken shoes,
With roses at her feet.

She clad her body in spotless white,
With a girdle as red as blood.
The glad white raiment her beauty bound,
As the sepels blind the bud.

And round and round her white neck she flung
A necklace of sapphires blue;
On one white finger of either hand
A shining ring she drew.

And down the stairway and out of the door
She glided, as soft and light,
As an airy tuft of a thistle seed
Might glide through the grasses bright.

And into the garden sweet she stole--
The little birds carolled loud--
Her beauty shone as a star might shine
In the rift of the morning cloud.

The King's son walked in the garden fair,
And the little handmaiden came,
Through the midst of a shimmer of roses red,
Like a sunbeam through a flame.

The King's son marvelled, his heart leaped up,
"And art thou my bride?" said he,
"For, North or South, I have never beheld
A lovelier maid than thee."

"And dost thou love me?" the little maid cried,
"A fine King's son, I wis!"
And the king's son took her with both his hands,
And her ruddy lips did kiss.

And the little maid laughed till the beaded tears,
Ran down in a silver rain.
"O foolish King's son!" and she clapped her hands,
Till the gold rings rang again.

"O King's son, foolish and fooled art thou,
For a goodly game is played:
Thy bride is away with her lover last night,
And I am her little handmaid."

And the King's son sware a great oath, said he--
Oh, the maiden's heart is merry!
"If the Earl's fair daughter a traitress be,
The little handmaid is enough for me."
Put on garments of white, my maidens!

The King's son walks in the garden fair--
Oh, the maiden's heart is merry!
And the little handmaiden walketh there,
But the old Earl pulleth his beard for care.
Put on garments of white, my maidens!

Underneath a tree at noontide
Abu Midjan sits distressed,
Fetters on his wrists and ancles,
And his chin upon his breast;

For the Emir's guard had taken,
As they passed from line to line,
Reeling in the camp at midnight,
Abu Midjan drunk with wine.

Now he sits and rolls uneasy,
Very fretful, for he hears,
Near at hand, the shout of battle,
And the din of driving spears.

Both his heels in wrath are digging
Trenches in the grassy soil,
And his fingers clutch and loosen,
Dreaming of the Persian spoil.

To the garden, over-weary
Of the sound of hoof and sword,
Came the Emir's gentle lady,
Anxious for her fighting lord.

Very sadly, Abu Midjan,
Hanging down his head for shame,
Spake in words of soft appealing
To the tender-hearted dame:

"Lady, while the doubtful battle
Ebbs and flows upon the plains,
Here in sorrow, meek and idle,
Abu Midjan sits in chains.

"Surely Saad would be safer
For the strength of even me;
Give me then his armour, Lady,
And his horse, and set me free.

"When the day of fight is over,
With the spoil that he may earn,
To his chains, if he is living,
Abu Midjan will return."

She, in wonder and compassion,
Had not heart to say him nay;
So, with Saad's horse and armour,
Abu Midjan rode away.

Happy from the fight at even,
Saad told his wife at meat,
How the army had been succoured
In the fiercest battle-heat,

By a stranger horseman, coming
When their hands were most in need,
And he bore the arms of Saad,
And was mounted on his steed;

How the faithful battled forward,
Mighty where the stranger trod,
Till they deemed him more than mortal,
And an angel sent from God.

Then the lady told her master
How she gave the horse and mail
To the drunkard, and had taken
Abu Midjan's word for bail.

To the garden went the Emir,
Running to the tree, and found
Torn with many wounds and bleeding,
Abu Midjan meek and bound.

And the Emir loosed him, saying,
As he gave his hand for sign,
"Never more shall Saad's fetters
Chafe thee for a draught of wine."

Three times to the ground in silence
Abu Midjan bent his head;
Then with glowing eyes uplifted,
To the Emir spake and said:

"While an earthly lord controlled me,
All things for the wine I bore;
Now, since God alone shall judge me,
Abu Midjan drinks no more."

All day, all day, round the clacking net
The weaver's fingers fly:
Gray dreams like frozen mists are set
In the hush of the weaver's eye;
A voice from the dusk is calling yet,
"Oh, come away, or we die!"

Without is a horror of hosts that fight,
That rest not, and cease not to kill,
The thunder of feet and the cry of the flight,
A slaughter weird and shrill;
Gray dreams are set in the weaver's sight,
The weaver is weaving still.

"Come away, dear soul, come away or we die;
Hear'st thou the moan and the rush! Come away;
The people are slain at the gates, and they fly;
The kind God hath left them this day;
The battle-axes cleaves, and the foemen cry,
And the red swords swing and slay."

"Nay, wife, what boots to fly from pain,
When pain is wherever we fly?
And death is a sweeter thing than a chain:
'Tis sweeter to sleep than to cry,
The kind God giveth the days that wane;
If the kind God hath said it, I die."

And the weaver wove, and the good wife fled,
And the city was made a tomb,
And a flame that shook from the rocks overhead
Shone into that silent room,
And touched like a wide red kiss on the dead
Brown weaver slain by his loom.

Yet I think that in some dim shadowy land,
Where no suns rise or set,
Where the ghost of a whilom loom doth stand
Round the dusk of its silken net,
Forever flyeth his shadowy hand,
And the weaver is weaving yet.

In days, when the fruit of men's labour was sparing,
And hearts were weary and nigh to break,
A sweet grave man with a beautiful bearing
Came to us once in the fields and spake.

He told us of Roma, the marvellous city,
And of One that came from the living God,
The Virgin's Son, who in heavenly pity,
Bore for his people the rood and rod,

Book of the day:
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Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Good Action this Morning

While we've had a head spinning rally since late Tuesday, the market still is not overbought on a lot of secondary indicators - I've thrown RSI and a stochastic oscillator below as examples.  A very quiet day today, consolidating this huge move and where S&P 1188 was held, would have been a victory for the bulls.  So far it's even better than that, with the NASDAQ green most of the session, and the S&P 500 well above that 1188 level now.

Volume continues to be light, but I'm training myself in 2011 to forget everything I learned about volume the prior 10+ years, since this new era market laughs at the need for volume to confirm.  Eight robots trading amongst themselves changes things I suppose.

With little in economic news, other than a rumor out of Europe not much to move the market.  If the S&P 500 can advance to that 1220-1225 level in the next few sessions, that would seem to set up a very nice opportunity for selling/shorting in the very near term, as most of the secondary indicators should be screaming overbought by that time.

Risk on!

Disclaimer: The opinions listed on this blog are for educational purpose only. You should do your own research before making any decisions.
This blog, its affiliates, partners or authors are not responsible or liable for any misstatements and/or losses you might sustain from the content provided.

Copyright @2012 FundMyMutualFund.com

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Inez Chair

Product Description

The scooped profile of the tight wingback of the Inez Chair gives this classy seat an updated traditional feel, accompanied by cabriole front legs in a dark-gray old-wood finish and the contrasting hessian-style back pinned with antique-brass nailheads.

Product Details

Product ID: DOV2349
Manufacturer:Dovetail Furniture
Dimensions: W:24" D:25" H:43"
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#887977 - 05/16/13 10:11 AM Solitaire Egypt - New Solitaire Game On BigFish
BrownEyedTigre Online   happy
The Sassy Administrator PR Liaison
Sonic Boomer

Registered: 01/04/04
Posts: 73668
Loc: In the Naughty Corner
You can download Solitaire Egypt here.

Prove yourself worthy of the favors of your Pharaoh and create a prosperous new town in the mysterious land of Egypt! A thriving metropolis at the Nile was destroyed by a sandstorm, and now it’s your task to create a new metropolis, more beautiful and thriving than ever before! You are the supreme architect in Ancient Egypt and can start your work immediately with an adviser of the pharaoh standing by your side. Discover exciting and entertaining levels in Campaign Mode, and use your combo-counter to rack up points and important extras that will aid you on your quest to construct magnificent structures so beautiful that even the gods will offer assistance as you prove your progress and skill! Or for more relaxed game play, Free Play Mode offers a more laid back game with familiar variants of solitaire. With so many customizable options, Solitaire Egypt is a game that every player will love!
Play Campaign or Free Play modes
Wild cards, joker and special cards
Hidden extras

As always, please remember to come back and tell us what you think.

Happy Gaming,
Ana wave
Don't feed the Trolls

#887978 - 05/16/13 10:16 AM Re: Solitaire Egypt - New Solitaire Game On BigFish [Re: BrownEyedTigre]
Marian Offline
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Registered: 07/04/00
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Thanks, Ana. wave

#887991 - 05/16/13 10:57 AM Re: Solitaire Egypt - New Solitaire Game On BigFish [Re: BrownEyedTigre]
Haroula Offline
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Registered: 06/02/10
Posts: 10027
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Thanks, Ana smile
I change all my passwords to "incorrect". So whenever I forget, it says, "your password is incorrect".

#888163 - 05/17/13 05:52 AM Re: Solitaire Egypt - New Solitaire Game On BigFish [Re: BrownEyedTigre]
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Now that looks like fun Ana! Thanks!

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Looking to play the first expansion to The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim early? Bethesda is launching a beta for Dawnguard on Xbox 360.

Visit DawnguardBeta.ElderScrolls.com to apply. Bethesda says applicants need a registered account on its official forums. Applicants will be selected in the next week. If you're accepted, you'll get an Xbox Live code to redeem Dawnguard.

The beta is the full version with achievements, so if you participate in the beta you will not have to buy Dawnguard.

[Source: Bethblog]


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The Tyranny of King Washington is split into three parts, and the second chapter (called "The Betrayal") is available for download today.

Well, technically, it's only available today on Xbox 360, though it should be for sale on PS3 tomorrow. It costs $10.

Check out the trailer below, and to see how the DLC has stacked up so far, read our impressions of the first episode.


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Play Novomatic Casino Slots

Rate this

For many years and continuing to this day, Novomatic has served as Europe’s standard bearer in the face of the likes of IGT and Bally when it comes to releasing legendary land based slots. Like the two American companies, it took longer than you may think to really kick the online division into gear, but Novomatic has already demonstrated that it is into online casino gaming for the long haul by quickly and effectively bringing each and every one of its most popular games to online screens. With some of the best known games in the world to its credit, not to mention a reputation that sees favour among land based and online players in the UK alike, the opportunity to play their slots is one not to be missed and we’ve got everything you need to know between the games and casinos featured below.

Recommended Novomatic Casinos:

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If the typical land based style appeals to you then you can't go wrong with Novomatic. Most land based establishments in the UK offer their great games, and even if your local one doesn't we're pretty certain that you'll have come across their top rated titles at some point. That land based style means big, bold graphics together with the kind of features that when they hit, they hit hard! A variety of themes that all retain a certain magic are exactly what is in store with games that are so popular that they often form the majority of the slots sections at the company's partner casinos.

When taking a closer look at the games on offer, there is no better place to start than with Book of Ra Deluxe. This is Novomatic's equivalent to Aristocrat's Queen of the Nile or IGT's Cleopatra, meaning that it is the slot that is most closely identified with the company by the majority of players. Funnily enough, it also has an Egyptian theme, just like the other two games, although it is less pronounced here, with the focus firmly on the Book of Ra itself. It is not often that a symbol becomes iconic, but this one definitely is, having been responsible for some truly massive wins over the years thanks to its unique status as both a wild and a scatter.

Novomatic is also the company to play with if you're a fan of fruit machines. While it can be tricky to get hold of games that are identical to the pub fruity games we know and love from the pubs online, the sense of familiarity that you'll have on games like Power Stars is certainly worth noting. The developer is behind an entire series of such games which ensure that the bars, cherries and lucky sevens all live on among online players!

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Description Launch the robot into a field of contraptions that will either give the robot a boost or prevent it from traveling any further. You will receive money based on the distance, air time, height and speed of each launch. Use this money to purchase cannons, weapons and various upgrades. When a weapon is equipped, you can use it after the robot has been launched from the cannon.
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100 Floors: Level 33

100 Floors: Level 33 is a speed tap game. You have three colors at the bottom, white, yellow, and red. There are rotating pictures on the 100 Floors: Level 33 door so what you need to do is tap the color it represents until the door is unlocked. You need to do this perfectly for 5 turns to advance to 100 Floors: Level 34

100 Floors - Stage 33

  4 Responses to “100 Floors: Level 33”

  1. what color is fire?!?!?

  2. Banana & lemon (looks like a pear) – yellow
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    Cloud &snowflake – white

  3. I’ve tapped the colors correctly 5 times in a row many times but the door never opens!

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All Features

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Elite: Dangerous - Arena

Score: 80%
ESRB: Teen
Publisher: Frontier Developments
Developer: Frontier Developments
Media: Download/1
Players: 4 - 8
Genre: Simulation/ Shooter/ Online

Graphics & Sound:

Hey - Do you already own Elite: Dangerous? If so, you're done. You already have this available to you. This is the Arena Mode (previously listed as CQC in the in-game menu), made available as a standalone product.

Yes, that's right. One mode in Elite: Dangerous is called Arena, where pilots match their skills against others in the Close Quarters Combat Championship. This is that game mode, all by itself.

The graphics are great, just like in Elite: Dangerous, which is no surprise, given that it's the same game engine. If anything, the structures and platforms for flying around may be easier to appreciate in Elite: Dangerous - Arena, since you don't have a speed limit and you can feel free to fly in, out, around and through the platforms. Additionally, since the arenas are constructed settings, some of them showcase some beautiful backgrounds, whether it be in an asteroid field or in the glow of a nearby sun.

Sounds are the same, too, but with the addition of a game announcer that gives you an audible heads-up on how much time remains in the match, and when your team takes the lead or loses it. There's also that urgent warning that you've left the arena. If you hear that one, turn around quick; you get a 10 second count before your ship self-destructs.

There's no planet surface exploration, no frame shift jumps, no missions. Just blowing up enemy ships while trying not to get shot down. So, why would anyone want to just shoot at other ships? Well, for one thing, some people really enjoy dogfighting in their spaceships. This lets you do just that.

While there are opportunities to attack other ships in Elite: Dangerous, there are almost always some sort of ramifications of doing so. Here, not only do you not end up with a bounty on your head, you earn experience, glory, and even credits that can be spent in your normal Elite: Dangerous game. If you find yourself on a station somewhere and needing a couple thousand more credits to afford that upgrade that you really want before embarking on the next leg of your trek, you could save your game, jump out and play Arena for a while to earn the credits you need for the upgrade, then jump back in and make your purchase. Nifty. I found that I was able to make just over 2,000 CR in just about an hour. And I'm not good at Elite: Dangerous - Arena. At all.

While the piloting skill is all Elite: Dangerous, Arena has a few unique twists of its own. For one, you have Power Ups. That's right, the look and feel of Elite: Dangerous - Arena is the realistic simulation found in Elite: Dangerous, but they've thrown in upgrades that could have been taken directly out of Mario Kart. There's one to boost your speed, one to enhance your weapons, even one for "Stealth Mode." The easy, realistic explanation of these features is, of course, that all of the ships have these enhancements built-in and at the ready and that flying through one of the labeled Power Up gates merely activates that enhancement for a limited time. At any rate, it ups the fun factor, adds tactical complexity, and helps to keep the gameplay dynamic.

There are three different types of bouts in Arena: Deathmatch, Team Deathmatch and Capture the Flag. These modes are true to their very familiar names. Deathmatch is an every commander for themselves brawl, where you are up against up to seven other ships in an effort to get the highest number of kills. Team Deathmatch divides the eight combatants into two teams of four and Capture the Flag also has four on four matches, but you fight to control the "flag," which, in this case, is a glowing ball of energy that will trail behind your ship if you fly through it.

I'm not much of a team player, so I don't usually play with a headset unless there's a really good reason to do so and, when there is, I usually have to root around to find where I put my boom mic. (I use my Astro A30s every day... but for listening, not chatting.) I found out quickly that if your going to play Team Deathmatch or Capture the Flag, you'll want to bring your headset with you. In my brief venture into Team Deathmatch, I found that players tend to be talkative and offer assistance... but you'd need to be able to indicate that you did, in fact, need it before it is actually given.

I am absolutely horrible at fighting and tend to put my efforts into exploring systems, investigating planet surfaces, trading and performing courier missions. Still, no matter who you are or how you play, you're eventually going to find yourself in a firefight. You can't choose whether you're going to be involved in the fight... just whether you're going to win. Well, maybe whether you have a shot at living through it?

At any rate, Arena serves as a much-needed Practice Mode for close quarters ship combat. The fact that dying in a match has no lasting effect, but merely affects your score is nice, indeed. You not only don't have to worry about spending credits to re-buy your ship, but you can swap out your ship and loadout before jumping back in, if you need to change up your play style. That is, of course, assuming you've progressed enough to unlock additional ships and loadouts.

When using Arena as a Practice Mode for Elite: Dangerous, all of the physics and techniques will carry over, but there are a couple of things that differ in the full game and you'll want to bear that in mind when trying to take your skills and apply them in the full game. First, weapons locks in the full game are, well, high-tech futuristic weapons locks. They're pretty good at locking onto something and keeping their lock. Sure, there are countermeasures that can break those locks, but they're generally pretty good. In Arena, however, weapons locks are broken if you don't maintain visual contact. That means that if you need to shake someone who's firing at you, ducking behind an asteroid or through a structure is a great idea. Also, if you're trying to gun someone down, don't let them out of your sight, or you'll have to re-establish your lock. (Also, the "Power Ups" don't appear in Elite: Dangerous, either. That's strictly a feature of Elite: Dangerous - Arena.)

As for the difficulty level, it's high. You're dealing with other players, so you can't simply figure out how some A.I. plays and change your style to exploit its weakness; these are real, live, players with their own ways of playing and they will come and go as you play, so I wouldn't try concentrating on individual players' weaknesses. I'd suggest developing strategies that work well for you against most other players.

And time. Every match you play will award you with experience and rank up your profile. Every match will be a learning opportunity, whether your stats are higher in kills, assists, or deaths. Every match will award you some amount of Credits that can be spent in Elite: Dangerous, even if your performance was less than you'd hoped. Practice makes perfect. Keep working toward that.

One issue I had with Arena is the lengthy matchmaking process. I don't know if it's due to not enough players or if I'm trying at off times, but I'm trying to play during "nights and weekends," which is pretty much when I can... and when I would expect others to try playing. The upside is that once you're in, you're in for a decent amount of time before you'll have to wait on the matchmaking process again. Once you play a game, you tend to be able to keep playing additional rounds with the same group of people, perhaps with a player leaving and another joining... without any real wait. The initial wait to get into a match, however, can be minutes. It seemed to me that it takes longer for the 4v4 modes than for Deathmatch.

Game Mechanics:

Any time you have a massively multiplayer game, you're going to have players possessing a wide spread of talent and progress. You will have those who were in for the beta and have been playing for hours each day since launch and you will have newcomers who aren't sure how to fire their weapons. (Wait... did that just eject all my cargo!?)

Elite: Dangerous - Arena attempts to address this issue with regards to combat, which, let's face it, is really the part that players would complain about. In fantasy RPGs, you don't mind the fact that there are other players who are running around in amazing armor and wielding fantastic weapons... you mind when they use them on you. Same goes here. It's okay if other players have more ships (and larger ones), but you don't want to jump into the game and have no idea how to defend yourself. With Arena, you can hone your skills, get familiarity with some of the fighter ships and earn Credits that can be used in the full game at the same time.

The biggest problem I have with Arena is that it is difficult to actually get into a match with someone, as matchmaking can take so long. This goes quadrupley for team game modes, such as Team Deathmatch or Capture the Flag. In fact, I only played part of one Team Deathmatch game before the host left and wasn't able to get in another one, and I was not ever able to get into a Capture the Flag bout. In my attempt, however, I have racked up hours of waiting in matchmaking to play Capture the Flag. I think eight hours was the longest stint. Getting into a free-for-all Deathmatch is considerably more doable.

If you really want to try out the team modes, you would probably be better off forming your own squad and then contacting other squads outside of the game and scheduling a match. Not being an overly social gamer, I don't have three other friends and four rivals who play the game to test out this theory, however.

My editor emailed our contacts about not being able to get into a Capture the Flag match and, according to them, it seems that it is most likely due to a lack of players trying to play that game type. As they put it, the problem is that the full game offers so much more, with endless space exploration in all directions, that players gravitate toward the full game. My online research indicated the same. If you want to play Deathmatch or even Team Deathmatch, you might not have to wait too long, especially if you try playing late at night. Capture the Flag, however, is reportedly nigh impossible to get into a match.

However, Arena is offered at a mere $7.50 USD. Furthermore, if purchased from the Frontier store, the entire purchase price of Arena can be used toward the purchase of Elite: Dangerous. You simply pay the difference between Arena and the full game to upgrade. Or, as they put it on their website, "All customers who buy Elite Dangerous: Arena from the Frontier Store will receive a discount equal to their original purchase price, when upgrading to either Elite Dangerous or the Elite Dangerous: Deluxe Edition." Steam has the same offer, of course requiring that you buy the upgrade on Steam: "All customers who buy Elite Dangerous: Arena will receive a discount equal to their original purchase price, when upgrading to either Elite Dangerous or the Elite Dangerous: Deluxe Edition." Don't buy the game at one of the two and the full version at the other or you'll lose this discount.

So, if you've been considering Elite: Dangerous, but you're afraid of having your Asp (Scout) handed to you, then Arena might just be the way to ease yourself in to your captain's chair, Commander.

-Geck0, GameVortex Communications
AKA Robert Perkins

Minimum System Requirements:

Windows 7 / Windows 8, Quad Core CPU (4x 2GHz), 4GB RAM, Nvidia GTX 260 / ATI 4870HD Graphics Card, DirectX Version 11, Broadband Internet connection, 7GB Available HDD Space

Test System:

[Alienware Aurora] Intel Core i7-3820 CPU @ 3.60GHz, 16 GB dual-channel DDR3, Alienware Mainboard, Windows 10 Home 64 bit, Graphics: NVIDIA GeForce GTX 680 (4GB), Two Monitors (Samsung S22C300 21.5" / Gateway HD2201 21'' HDMI), 500 GB Solid State Primary Hard Drive, 1000 GB Secondary Hard Drive, Saitek X52 Flight Control System, Logitech Logitech G402 Hyperion Fury, Logitech G710+ Mechanical Gaming Keyboard, Astro Gaming A30 Headset Black Gaming Headset, EPB Fiber 100Mb Internet Access

Related Links:

Sony PlayStation Vita Grand Kingdom Nintendo 3DS 7th Dragon III Code: VFD

Game Vortex :: PSIllustrated


text:
news\ Sep 27, 2011 at 4:00 pm

Capcom Reveals Ship Date for Resident Evil 5 for the PC

July 15, 2009

Capcom Reveals Ship Date for Resident Evil 5 for the PC

A Whole New Dimension of Horror Comes to PC Fans

Capcom is pleased to announce that Resident Evil 5 for the PC will release on September 15, 2009 in North America and September 18 th in Europe. PC gamers will get the ultimate Resident Evil package in the new PC version as new features will include NVIDIA’s new GeForce 3D Vision technology (wireless 3D Vision glasses sold separately), new costumes and a new and improved mercenaries mode with three times as many enemies.

Fans that pick up the PC version will be the first to experience stereoscopic 3D out of screen effects as their living rooms are transformed into the world of Kijuju. Infected Majini coming at players from every angle, dust flying in and out of screen and the scariest bosses to date are taken up a notch . Resident Evil 5 PC is a whole new level of fear players will never forget. The game also supports Stereoscopic 3D in all of its cut scenes – an industry first.

These groundbreaking stereoscopic 3D effects were developed in close cooperation with NVIDIA, which is why the game is part of NVIDIA’s “The Way It’s Meant To Be Played” partnership program. Resident Evil fans can check out the 3D action for themselves today as a new stereo 3D tech demo with benchmark is available to download today on NVIDIA’s official site at To find out more info on NVIDIA’s GeForce 3D Vision technology, click on the link here,

If you can’t get enough of RE5 for the PC, it will be making its public debut at Comicon 2009 in Booth #5133 in full 3D . It will also be shown to thousands of gamers at this year’s Penny Arcade Expo in the Fall. More details on the game will be hitting in the upcoming months.

Click here to download a new Resident Evil 5 trailer.

About Resident Evil 5

From the ashes of old conflicts, a new terror arises. The Umbrella Corporation and its crop of lethal viruses have been destroyed and contained. But a new, more dangerous threat has emerged. Years after surviving the events in Raccoon City, Chris Redfield has been fighting the scourge of bio-organic weapons all over the world. Now a member of the Bio-terrorism Security Assessment Alliance (BSSA), Chris is sent to Africa to investigate a biological agent that is transforming the populace into aggressive and disturbing creatures. Joined by another local BSSA agent, Sheva Alomar, the two must work together to solve the truth behind the disturbing turn of events. Featuring a revolutionary new co-op mode of gameplay, Resident Evil 5 will let players experience fear together as terror moves out of the shadows and into the light of day.

Co-producer and series veterans Jun Takeuchi (Lost Planet) and Masachika Kawata (Resident Evil 4 Wii Edition, Resident Evil: Umbrella Chronicles) unleash an unprecedented level of fear for the new generation in Resident Evil 5, the sequel to one of the highest-rated videogames in history according to and Promising to revolutionize the series by delivering an unbelievable level of detail, realism and control, Resident Evil 5 is certain to bring new fans to the series. Incredible changes to both the gameplay and world of Resident Evil make this a must-have game for gamers across the globe.

The Resident Evil series has sold over 40 million units since the original game was released in 1996 and has spawned a multi-million dollar trilogy of films from Sony Pictures. The latest installment of the game, Resident Evil 5 promises to revolutionize the series just as Resident Evil 4 did.

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text: Welcome to Hotel Villa Monica Malcesine, Right on the beach on the shore of Lake Garda, Hotel Villa Monica is 6 km north of Malcesine and a 10-minute drive from Riva del Garda. It offers free secure parking, a sauna, plus a covered and heated pool. Rooms at Villa Monica are elegant and bright, and fitted with refined parquet floors. Each one features free Wi-Fi access, air conditioning, and a balcony overlooking the lake. Rates include 1 sun lounger and 1 sun umbrella per room at the beach in front of the hotel. Guests can enjoy a drink on the bar’s terrace, or relax in the lake-view garden. Breakfast is served in the air-conditioned breakfast room with lake views. The restaurant is open every day for dinner and specialises in salad and starters buffets, as well as dishes based on fresh fish and meat. (Hotel Villa Monica Malcesine hotels booking).


text: Vitajte Vista Lago Manerba, A residence with 7 apartments in a beautiful quiet location about 1 km od jazera Lago di Garda. The residence has been completely renovated and is located on a panoramic spot above the bay of Manerba in the centre close to the shops where it is bustling in the summer. The apartment has a beautiful view and simple and rustic. but tasteful furnishings.There is a communal swimming pool with a bar and a spacious terrace and a garden to relax in the sun. There is also a restaurant with Italian specialties and there is an option for morning breakfast. In July and August the street is closed each Tuesday evening for live music (od 17:00 na 24:00). (Vista Lago Manerba del Garda hotels rezervácie).


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14 Shades of Blue Hair Color

14 Shades of Blue Hair Color

Blue hair color has shed its punk rock roots and become one of the most trend-forward, dare-we-say mainstream ways to express yourself through hair color. From cool ice blue hair shades to chic denim hair color to subtle jet blue black hair color, there’s a version of blue for every season, mood and style. Ahead, our favorite shades of blue hair to inspire your next hair color transformation.

Ice Blue Hair Color

A frosty blue hair shade is perfect to make winter a little more fun or brighten up your summer. Whether it’s on silver-blonde hair or blended into darker roots, ice blue hair is a chic way to cool down your hair color.

Light Blue Hair Color

A gentle, sky-blue hair shade keeps your look soft — but still celebratory — with a pop of color. Best on anyone with a fair complexion, complement this hairstyle with peachy blushes and the shimmering makeup a hair color this fun deserves.

Pastel Blue Hair Color

Pastel blue hair color layers beautiful over platinum hair or light blonde hair for a subtler version of this trendy hair look. To up the drama, pair with a winged cat eye, a red lip, or embrace your inner rock star and try both.

Holographic Hair Color

Genius hair colorists have turned the rainbow light reflects of purple and blue into a trending hair color shade. Choose your favorite shades of light blue, purple and even pink hair color and highlight hair with all the colors of a CD reflecting in the light. This hair color choice will turn you into a unicorn. Dress up your unicorn hair with glitter or down with nude beauty shades.

Turquoise Hair Color

Reflect the depths of crystal Caribbean ocean waters right in your hair color (and maybe turn your life into a permanent vacation.) A bold, highly pigmented turquoise hair color shade will work on all skin tones, especially when complemented with warm gold makeup tones and jewelry.

Mermaid Blue Hair Color

A vibrant, bright blue, the joyful mermaid hair color can be styled as one aqua tone or a mix of aqua, turquoise and light blue hair color shades. Bonus: Mermaid makeup is making a serious comeback, so you’ll be able to match your hair color shade perfectly to an eyeshadow palette — or at least stock up on mermaid themed makeup brushes.

Denim Hair Color

Trend-forward denim hair color is like your favorite pair of jeans: instantly appealing, warm and comfy. This hair color shade is on the lighter side like a color of much-washed denim. Try it as a blue ombre as an all-over blue hair color in a chic, short bob hairstyle. The best part? It naturally matches with one of the best items in your closet.

Navy Blue Hair Color

Celebrities and social media stars are loving this deep-blue hair color shade. Whether you add blue to your dark natural hair tones or lighten hair to achieve this look, it’s a classic blue hair color shade that will turn heads from one angle and look brown or black from another. Navy blue hair works well on anyone with a warm and dark complexion.

Dark Blue Hair Color

A midnight blue hair color shade is the perfect way to add a creative twist to dark hair. A dark blue hair shade is a blue color so rich that it has touches of black and purple. Avoid black clothes if you choose a dark blue hair color shade, and keep your look bright with yellows and metallic-hued clothes.

Indigo Hair Color

This rich, intense blue hair color is like a darker version of the denim trend; indigo evokes a pair of fresh new jeans. The deep hair color shade works on all skin tones, especially when paired with a bold brow and black eyeliner.

Teal Hair Color

This magical blend of blue and green hair color shades will up even the boldest hair color to the next level. Choose teal if you want blue hair color that will turn heads and brighten your outlook. It complements anyone with a dark natural hair shade.

Electric Blue Hair Color

Neon hair colors are sweeping every fashion magazine, and there’s no more vivid hair color than electric blue. Especially striking on pale skin tones, this hairstyle works well for anyone who loves to stand out. Amp the look up to 10 with a complementary fuchsia pink or statement neon purple lip.

Blue Black Hair Color

Add a subtle blue to your look with a natural blue hair color that blends seamlessly into a soft blue hair color shade. Blue in some light, black in others, this hair color can often even be office-friendly.

Reflective Jet Blue Black Hair Color

A reflective blue black hair color shade transforms hair color into deep black with shiny hints of blue. Choose this rich and subtle shade especially if you have natural brown or black hair color, then bring out the blue tones by adding cool colors into your wardrobe.


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Ivo Jurek to Assume Role of CEO of Gates Corporation

May 01, 2015

Denver, CO, May 1, 2015 – Gates Corporation, a portfolio company of Blackstone, has announced the appointment of Ivo Jurek as the company’s new CEO.  Mr. Jurek will assume his responsibilities on May 18, succeeding Jim Nicol, who will remain on the board as the Vice Chairman.

Mr. Jurek has spent the entirety of his career in the industrials area, both in the US and internationally, holding senior leadership positions at some of the world’s leading industrial companies. Immediately prior to assuming his new role at Gates, Mr. Jurek served as President of Eaton’s Electrical business in Asia Pacific. Prior to that, he led various Cooper businesses in the US and Asia, and held roles at International Rectifier and TRW Automotive.

Dave Calhoun, Chairman of Gates Corporation and Senior Managing Director and Head of Private Equity Portfolio Operations at Blackstone said, “Ivo is a results-oriented leader who will seek to maintain leadership in quality and performance while accelerating our growth.  He has had an impressive track record of success and we look forward to welcoming him to Gates.” Jim Nicol commented, “I remain fully committed to the success of Gates and look forward to supporting Ivo and the team in my continuing role as Vice Chairman of the Board.”

For more information about Gates Corporation, please contact Mark Tenney at 303-744-4821.

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Help us get to over 4,000 biographies in 2017.

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Balloon Modelling

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Help us get to over 4,000 biographies in 2017.

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Jasper, Texas, Dentists

Need a dental check up, filling, root canal, teeth cleaning, or other professional dental - dental hygienist services?

Regular dental checkups are an important part of overall health. Geodentist is here to help you find the right neighborhood dentist for general dentistry, teeth whitening, cosmetic dentistry dental surgery, and more. Click any of the general dental practices and offices in Jasper, TX, Texas, below for additional practice information, including address and map.

Jasper dentists can add their practice information to this page. Click here for more information.

Basic Listing
Dr. Jodi L Cain
2051 S Wheeler St, Ste E,
Jasper, TX, 75951-5600
(409) 384-5091

Featured Dentists

  • Dr. Pedro Franco - Irving Dentist
    DFW Oral & Maxillofacial Surgery
    Dr. Franco works with the newly innovative Bite Lock concept that gives patients fully functioning teeth with dental implants, and is performed in a single procedure.As an oral and maxillofacial surgeon, Dr. Franco manages a wide variety of problems relating to the mouth, teeth and facial regions. Dr. Franco practices a full scope of oral and maxillofacial surgery with expertise ranging from Dental Implant surgery and wisdom tooth removal to corrective jaw surgery.
  • Dean Glasser, DDS - Cosmetic Dentistry Long Island - Melville...

    Cosmetic Dentistry Long Island - Dr. Dean Glasser, D.D.S., provides Cosmetic Dentistry to Long Island and the surrounding area.


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Base Realignment and Closure (BRAC)

Base Realignment and Closure (BRAC) – Air Force

Bergstrom AFB, Austin, Texas Brooks AFB, San Antonio, Texas Carswell AFB, Fort Worth, Texas Castle AFB, Atwater, California Chanute AFB, Rantoul, Illinois Eaker AFB, Blytheville, Arkansas England AFB Galena AFB General Mitchell Gentile AFB George AFB, Victorville, CA – BRAC 1 – Superfund Site – EPA #: CA2570024453 – Deed Restrictions for George AFB Housing – pesticides Aldrin and Dieldrin Griffiss AFB Grissom AFB Homestead AFB KISawyer AFB [Read More…]


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Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Another step in the right direction

The printer (CreateSpace) has accepted my corrections for UNANNOUNCED. I expect to see a new printed proof in a day or two. If everything then looks good the book is ready for publication.

Visited a book signing by fellow writer Rhiannon Frater at Barnes and Noble, La Cantera (San Antonio) last weekend. Many friends of her zombie stories gathered around the whole time I was there. Rhiannon and her group admired the proof copy of UNANNOUNCED.
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T24 West Bengal Local Call Rate Cutters, Offers

T24 Special rate cutter plans for West Bengal subscribers. T24 Special offers, Plans, packs for Low calling rates. This T24 special rate cutter plans allows you to cut down your call rates sms rates along with the 2g, 3g Internet data packs.Below are the recharge plans of T24 call rate cutters, T24 ...