Mick Smith and William Wordsworth - Transform Snibston Mick Smith, window cleaner and former Snibston colliery worker, reads an excerpt from a William Wordsworth poem written during Wordsworth's time living at Coleorton, North West Leicestershire, just down the road from Snibston. The poem refers to and is inspired by Grace Dieu Priory where Wordsworth used to visit regularly with his family. Grace Diieu Priory is on the Transform Snibston William Wordsworth Trail. The video and trail are part of poet artist and cultural forager, Paul Conneally's Spoil Heap Harvest for Transform Snibston. Here is the Wordsworth poem in full: BENEATH yon eastern ridge, the craggy bound, Rugged and high, of Charnwood's forest ground Stand yet, but, Stranger! hidden from thy view, The ivied Ruins of forlorn GRACE DIEU; Erst a religious House, which day and night With hymns resounded, and the chanted rite: And when those rites had ceased, the Spot gave birth To honourable Men of various worth: There, on the margin of a streamlet wild, Did Francis Beaumont sport, an eager child; There, under shadow of the neighbouring rocks, Sang youthful tales of shepherds and their flocks; Unconscious prelude to heroic themes, Heart-breaking tears, and melancholy dreams Of slighted love, and scorn, and jealous rage, With which his genius shook the buskined stage. Communities are lost, and Empires die, And things of holy use unhallowed lie; They perish;--but the Intellect can raise, From airy words alone, a Pile that ne'er decays. William Wordsworth Copyright ...
Thoughts on Suffering: 6 billion Jobs Response to: The Book of Job As A Greek Tragedy-by Horace Kallan On The Epic of Keret: "No god hearkens to the voice of lost Electra, or heeds the sacrifices offered by my father long ago. Ah woe for the dead! woe for the living wanderer, who dwelleth in some foreign land, an outcast and vagabond at a menial board, sprung though he is of a famous sire! Myself, too, in a poor man's hut do dwell, wasting my soul with grief, an exile from my father's halls, here by the scarred hill-side; while my mother is wedded to a new husband in a marriage stained by blood." -Electra, "Electra" by Euripides "Not without reason, stranger, art thou seized With wonder at my tears: this sacred dome Awakes the sad remembrance of things past. I had my mind at home, though present here. How wretched is our ***! And, O ye gods, What deeds are yours! Where may we hope for right, If by the injustice of your power undone?" - CREUSA , "Ion" by Euripides "Now to one who was erst called happy, such changes are a grievous thing; though he who is always unfortunate feels no such pain, for sorrow is his birthright. This, methinks, is the piteous pass I shall one day come to; for earth will cry out forbidding me to touch her, the sea and the river-springs will refuse me a crossing, and I shall become like Ixion who revolves in chains upon that wheel. Wherefore this is best, that henceforth I be seen by none of the Hellenes, amongst whom in happier days I ...
metaphorminute: a midrib is a yeoman: Asimovian and buskined