She, At her funeral...by Thomas Hardy
Wednesday, December 2, 2009 8:40:35 AM
THEY bear him to his resting-place--
In slow procession sweeping by;
I follow at a stranger’s space;
His kindred they, his sweetheart I.
Unchanged my gown of garish dye,
Though sable-sad is their attire;
But they stand round with griefless eye,
Whilst my regret consumes like fire!
In slow procession sweeping by;
I follow at a stranger’s space;
His kindred they, his sweetheart I.
Unchanged my gown of garish dye,
Though sable-sad is their attire;
But they stand round with griefless eye,
Whilst my regret consumes like fire!













NonZionist # Wednesday, January 6, 2010 10:04:07 AM
I want to say more, but I'm speechless.
It's a timeless contrast, the same contrast that we see between Christ and the hypocritical Pharisees, for example. The one follows ritual; the other follows the heart. The one is dead, the other burns with life.
Actually, the sable mourners above seem MORE dead than the corpse, even!
And the sweetheart lives BEYOND life.
Today, the world we are confined to is mainly grey. We are not supposed to know that the spiritual realm exists. We are not supposed to imagine that anything lies beneath the surface of the purely material. But those who DO break through the surface and discover the infinite wear "garish dye": Color returns!
http://my.opera.com/NonZionist/blog/show.dml/5300651
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So we TRY to tell ourselves we have a "choice"! --
though the COLORS of our soul are without voice.
We tell ourselves, we have no right,
to get beyond this "world" of black and white.
The colors of our feelings, we ignore --
there seems to be no time, to find them or explore.
Blinded thus, we turn, against ourselves and flee
towards the empty "welcome" of our cold society.
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-- Either/Or (excerpt)
amna shahcandy25 # Wednesday, January 6, 2010 3:00:26 PM
hey if ur interestd in poetry, which seems likely..visit my blog and read my poems
http://amnatariq.blogspot.com
NonZionist # Wednesday, January 6, 2010 7:48:06 PM
Let's read the Thomas Hardy poem again.
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THEY bear him to his resting-place--
In slow procession sweeping by;
I follow at a stranger’s space;
His kindred they, his sweetheart I.
Unchanged my gown of garish dye,
Though sable-sad is their attire;
But they stand round with griefless eye,
Whilst my regret consumes like fire!
)+
Where do we stand? With the mourners dressed in sable? Or with the sweetheart dressed in garish dye? Do we polish the outside of the cup or the inside?
http://bible.gospelcom.net/bible?passage=MATT+23&language=english&version=NIV-UK
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25 Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.
26 Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.
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-- Matthew 23: 25-26
This question cuts to the core of life. In fact, our answer determines whether life HAS a core or not! Do we live on the surface or in the depths? Are we human or are we not? The poet, necessarily, chooses to explore the world beneath the surface -- the inside of the cup. You will be polishing more than just your maturity! The whole world is in need of polishing! A huge task awaits you!