31st October - a month of autumn to Halloween
Friday, 1 November 2019 01:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
And here it is - Halloween...
Poetry for October
The Haunted Oak
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
Pray why are you so bare, so bare,
Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;
And why, when I go through the shade you throw,
Runs a shudder over me?
My leaves were green as the best, I trow,
And sap ran free in my veins,
But I saw in the moonlight dim and weird
A guiltless victim's pains.
I bent me down to hear his sigh;
I shook with his gurgling moan,
And I trembled sore when they rode away,
And left him here alone.
They'd charged him with the old, old crime,
And set him fast in jail:
Oh, why does the dog howl all night long,
And why does the night wind wail?
He prayed his prayer and he swore his oath,
And he raised his hand to the sky;
But the beat of hoofs smote on his ear,
And the steady tread drew nigh.
Who is it rides by night, by night,
Over the moonlit road?
And what is the spur that keeps the pace,
What is the galling goad?
And now they beat at the prison door,
"Ho, keeper, do not stay!
We are friends of him whom you hold within,
And we fain would take him away
"From those who ride fast on our heels
With mind to do him wrong;
They have no care for his innocence,
And the rope they bear is long."
They have fooled the jailer with lying words,
They have fooled the man with lies;
The bolts unbar, the locks are drawn,
And the great door open flies.
Now they have taken him from the jail,
And hard and fast they ride,
And the leader laughs low down in his throat,
As they halt my trunk beside.
Oh, the judge, he wore a mask of black,
And the doctor one of white,
And the minister, with his oldest son,
Was curiously bedight.
Oh, foolish man, why weep you now?
'Tis but a little space,
And the time will come when these shall dread
The mem'ry of your face.
I feel the rope against my bark,
And the weight of him in my grain,
I feel in the throe of his final woe
The touch of my own last pain.
And never more shall leaves come forth
On the bough that bears the ban;
I am burned with dread, I am dried and dead,
From the curse of a guiltless man.
And ever the judge rides by, rides by,
And goes to hunt the deer,
And ever another rides his soul
In the guise of a mortal fear.
And ever the man he rides me hard,
And never a night stays he;
For I feel his curse as a haunted bough,
On the trunk of a haunted tree.
Pictures for October
Tonight was supposed to be writing group, except that the other half of the group asked if we could go to the pub instead, and what's a girl to say...? I was fairly amazed, however, to find that my current reading had followed me...

I've got slightly off-piste, you see, and I've been reading Rainbow Rowells latest, Wayward Son, which is the sequel to Carry on Simon, which I had to re-read to remember the characters, but... well, I had to buy the sequel because the book itself was just so amazingly pretty. More about that when I post my bingo tomorrow, but... yeah, so my favourite character is Basilton Pitch, and I've just started a fanfic (shush...) where they're battling goblins. Happy halloween, my local pub! *g*
Some pics taken on the way home (home less than barely 400 yards away)



Prosfic for October
Paper Flowers still before bed... I'm sleepy when I get there, that's the trouble!
...and the Lads!
Okay, kind of halloween-lads...? *g*

And here's to a happy November for everyone!
Poetry for October
The Haunted Oak
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
Pray why are you so bare, so bare,
Oh, bough of the old oak-tree;
And why, when I go through the shade you throw,
Runs a shudder over me?
My leaves were green as the best, I trow,
And sap ran free in my veins,
But I saw in the moonlight dim and weird
A guiltless victim's pains.
I bent me down to hear his sigh;
I shook with his gurgling moan,
And I trembled sore when they rode away,
And left him here alone.
They'd charged him with the old, old crime,
And set him fast in jail:
Oh, why does the dog howl all night long,
And why does the night wind wail?
He prayed his prayer and he swore his oath,
And he raised his hand to the sky;
But the beat of hoofs smote on his ear,
And the steady tread drew nigh.
Who is it rides by night, by night,
Over the moonlit road?
And what is the spur that keeps the pace,
What is the galling goad?
And now they beat at the prison door,
"Ho, keeper, do not stay!
We are friends of him whom you hold within,
And we fain would take him away
"From those who ride fast on our heels
With mind to do him wrong;
They have no care for his innocence,
And the rope they bear is long."
They have fooled the jailer with lying words,
They have fooled the man with lies;
The bolts unbar, the locks are drawn,
And the great door open flies.
Now they have taken him from the jail,
And hard and fast they ride,
And the leader laughs low down in his throat,
As they halt my trunk beside.
Oh, the judge, he wore a mask of black,
And the doctor one of white,
And the minister, with his oldest son,
Was curiously bedight.
Oh, foolish man, why weep you now?
'Tis but a little space,
And the time will come when these shall dread
The mem'ry of your face.
I feel the rope against my bark,
And the weight of him in my grain,
I feel in the throe of his final woe
The touch of my own last pain.
And never more shall leaves come forth
On the bough that bears the ban;
I am burned with dread, I am dried and dead,
From the curse of a guiltless man.
And ever the judge rides by, rides by,
And goes to hunt the deer,
And ever another rides his soul
In the guise of a mortal fear.
And ever the man he rides me hard,
And never a night stays he;
For I feel his curse as a haunted bough,
On the trunk of a haunted tree.
Pictures for October
Tonight was supposed to be writing group, except that the other half of the group asked if we could go to the pub instead, and what's a girl to say...? I was fairly amazed, however, to find that my current reading had followed me...


Some pics taken on the way home (home less than barely 400 yards away)





Prosfic for October
Paper Flowers still before bed... I'm sleepy when I get there, that's the trouble!
...and the Lads!
Okay, kind of halloween-lads...? *g*


And here's to a happy November for everyone!
no subject
Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 03:24 am (UTC)Happy Halloween! Spooky pictures, there... Are those gravestones?! So glad your reading group went out tonight. :)
I've put holds on those two Rowell books - sound very good! Just started Song of Achilles (M. Miller) today and it is entrancing. Odd how different it is from Circe - the gender of the narrator makes a big difference. But slasher that I am, I cannot resist this Patroclus/Achilles. So good. Always that tension of knowing there is pain ahead...
We had a big temp drop, a "wind event"!, and SNOW for our halloween! Good thing we were dressed as gnomes with long white beards!
no subject
Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 11:55 am (UTC)And ooh - if you're going to read Rainbow Rowell (yeay!) start with Fangirl rather than the two Simon books, because actually that's where Simon and Baz first appear (plus it's a much better book, although I'm partly saying that cos the American-isms bug me in the Simon books, which you probably wouldn't notice. They're professionally published! She's purposefully set them in England! How has she not had them properly edited by someone familiar with England?!) But Simon really starts in Fangirl, so... I also adore her Eleanor and Parke book....
Song of Achilles! I adore that book - as you say, Patroclus/Achilles! I've got Circe on my list, but I'm expecting it to be different...
Snow for halloween! That's just... wow! *g* Love the gnomes, too... (and all roads lead to Pros - Gnome from 'ome by Una N. Darcy!)
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Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 08:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 11:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 10:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, 3 November 2019 01:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 12:41 pm (UTC)Maybe only 400 yards, but still spooky! Hope you had someone along for most of the walk.
no subject
Date: Sunday, 3 November 2019 01:37 am (UTC)It is a sad poem, isn't it - but beautiful too, I think...
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Date: Friday, 1 November 2019 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Sunday, 3 November 2019 01:38 am (UTC)And lol - yes, C18th cavalier doesn't quite make sense, does it! I think the writer may have been slightly more focused on the lads, myself... *g*