'The true Soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because He loves what is behind him.' -G. K. Chesterton

14 October 2012

Sunday Kipling

Aack! Late again.

The Giants begin the NLCS today. Lu and Angus are currently off on a mountain run. Yeah, I'm just not down with that. I got the chance to introduce a new shooter yesterday. I'll talk more about that later. In the meantime there's stew cooking, a football game on and it's a glorious day to be alive. I hope you all have as good a day as this one is shaping up to be.

The Dawn Wind

The Fifteenth Century
At two o'clock in the morning, 
if you open your window and listen,
You will hear the feet of the Wind 
that is going to call the sun.
And the trees in the shadow rustle 
and the trees in the moonlight glisten,
And though it is deep, dark night, 
you feel that the night is done.         

So do the cows in the field. 
They graze for an hour and lie down,
Dozing and chewing the cud; 
or a bird in the ivy wakes, 
Chirrups one note and is still, 
and the restless Wind strays on,
Fidgeting far down the road, till, 
softly, the darkness breaks.

Back comes the Wind full strength 
with a blow like an angel's wing,
Gentle but waking the world, 
as he shouts: "The Sun! The Sun!"
And the light floods over the fields 
and the birds begin to sing,
And the Wind dies down in the grass. 
It is day and his work is done.                              

So when the world is asleep, 
and there seems no hope of her waking
Out of some long, bad dream 
that makes her mutter and moan,
Suddenly, all men arise 
to the noise of fetters breaking,
And every one smiles at his neighbour 
and tells him his soul is his own!

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