Stars, I have seen them fall,
But when they drop and die
No star is lost at all
From all the star-sown sky.
The toil of all that be
Helps not the primal fault;
It rains into the sea,
And still the sea is salt.

This is perhaps my favorite Housman lyric. Astringent and ruthlessly constrained in form.

That is all I have for today. Elsewhere I read a poem on Open Salon titled “Why the Sea is Salt II.” Brought the Housman lyric to mind. Must go now, and re-read that poem.

On his blog last week, Dr. B. commented on why he puts so much time and effort into writing, and playing the bluegrass mandolin, when his days are so full with his first career, family practice medicine. Seems some person criticized him for having a second career instead of concentrating on medicine. Dr. B. made this the subject of an explanatory post, “To Be The Best Dr. B I Can Be.” His position is that only by stretching himself into the arts can he keep perspective, and be the best he can be in other areas.

I’m with Dr. B. on that thought, and commented to that effect. You go, Doc.

Buy the book, you will be delighted. And sometime in the next year or two, there will be a second. You can read about that, too, on his blog.

The monstrous evils committed by the Nazis were opposed by a few brave Germans, most of whom were at least imprisoned; some, like Bonhoeffer, were executed.

He is worth remembering. For that reason, the Episcopal Church, among others, marks this day with prayers and bible readings. Lectionary reading for Bonhoeffer.

Ruritanian

\rur-uh-TAY-nee-un\

DEFINITION

adjective
: of, relating to, or having the characteristics of an imaginary place of high romance

EXAMPLES

“The dancers are dressed in vaguely Ruritanian costumes, the men in military, the women in stiff tutus.” — From an article by John Rockwell in The New York Times, September 9, 2006

“ABC’s Good Morning America opened with a trumpeted fanfare over pictures of the couple, proof that in the US Britain remains more period drama than real country, a Ruritanian theme park that is forever charming and quaint.” — From an article by Jonathan Freedland in The Guardian (London), November 17, 2010

DID YOU KNOW?

In 1894, British author Anthony Hope published The Prisoner of Zenda, a novel set in the mythical kingdom of Ruritania. The book relates the adventures of Rudolf Rassendyll, a British gentleman who impersonates the king of Ruritania to save him from a treasonous plot. An improbable but high-spirited tale filled with heroes, villains, courtly intrigue, romance, and sword play, Hope’s narrative (and its fictional locale) quickly captured the imagination of the public. Within two years of the novel’s publication, George Bernard Shaw had seen fit to use “Ruritanian” as a generic adjective: “Our common sense … must immediately put a summary stop to the somewhat silly Ruritanian gambols of our imagination.” Romantic or fanciful places or things have been “Ruritanian” ever since.

From 2007:

Looking up St. Patrick this morning, I discovered that in addition to the snake thing, and evangelizing Ireland in the fifth century, the man wrote (or receives the attribution for) “St. Patrick’s Breastplate,” a Lorica, or incantation for protection. The words were immediately familiar to me, as I have heard them several times in a hymn commonly sung during ordination ceremonies in the Episcopal Church. The Lorica is very long, but I excerpted in on my home page this morning. Following are the first few lines:

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,

By invocation of the same,

The Three in One, and One in Three.
I bind this day to me forever…,

Put to solemn music, the hymn, and St. Patrick’s words, always impress me with the gravity of what the ordinand is undertaking.

But back to beer and more wordly matters. In the bad old days before MADD and RID showed us the shame we should feel for driving after drinking, St. Patrick’s Day was an occasion for city-wide progressive drinkathons called “pub crawls.” The most memorable (yes, I remember the whole evening. And I walked, I did not drive before or after, nor crawl at any time) was in 1983. I did not cover all the places participating, but made stops at most. A great party, lasting several hours. Before pubcrawls, the six years I made the Rathskeller my St. Patrick’s Day home were the best times, which unfortunately ended in 1971, when the Rat closed to make way for a parking garage.

Now that I am old and gray and full of sleep, I can only take down the book of memory to re-live those days. Without the hangover, I must thankfully say. I am more responsive now to the ascetic evangelist who wrote the stirring words of the ordination hymn. In dark times, men and women of faith have always turned towards their sense of the infinite, and reached out to their brothers and sisters.

There are toasts to be made with the glass: slante!

There are invocations to be made with the spirit: I bind unto myself today…

Have a Happy St. Patrick’s Day all year long. One way or the other.

Rowan Oak

Bright Star

by John Keats

Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—
No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Thank you, Sweetheart.

Color – Caste – Denomination -
These – are Time’s Affair -
Death’s diviner Classifying
Does not know they are -

As in sleep – all Hue forgotten -
Tenets – put behind -
Death’s large – Democratic fingers
Rub away the Brand -

If Circassian – He is careless -
If He put away
Chrysalis of Blonde – or Umber -
Equal Butterfly -

They emerge from His Obscuring -
What Death – knows so well -
Our minuter intuitions -
Deem unplausible