Friday, Feb. 27, 2004 - 12:40 PM
Halleluiah! Friday is here at last. Not that I worked yesterday. It �snowed� � or at least it did what passes for snow here is the southeast. We had a few flakes. A little stuck to the grassy areas. It all melted by 8 a.m. and it was just a wet, overcast day. Still, there was actual accumulation in some areas, mostly on our mountains, so schools and most daycares were closed. I stayed home with LO, as I pretty-much look for any excuse to do that these days.
Her behavior was terrible, as usual. I eventually put her in her room and held the door shut. She beat and yanked on the door for more than two hours. A day at work would have been much more relaxing to say the least. We did manage a nice lunch out and got to go to a couple of pet stores to put up signs about the puppies. I can�t believe they are ready to go already.
We got one call already last night and she already came and got it. Two down, three to go.
Tonight I am going to see Ron White at The Comedy Catch. It should be a good time. Tomorrow night is my Girls� Night Out. I am having the girls up to my house for an evening of movies and gossip and crafty things and adult beverages.
Have a wonderful weekend!
_____
There was no Friday Five this week, so I decided to do the one from one year ago:
1. What is your favorite type of literature to read (magazine, newspaper, novels, nonfiction, poetry, etc.)?
I will basically read anything you put in front of me, though I do have a real magazine addiction. I can�t go through a checkout without picking something up. I think that started when I was trying to break myself of checkout line impulse candy buying, but whatever, it stuck. But, heaven help you if you turn me loose in the magazine section of Books-a-Million or Barnes and Noble. Two weeks ago I walked out with a Rolling Stone, a People, a Spin and a new one called Y�all that I had never seen before. It�s for, by and about Southerners. Not to mention the four or five subscriptions I have. I wonder if there is a 12-step program I should be in for this?
2. What is your favorite novel?
This is a tough one. I guess I would have to say it is a tie between three different series �Anne of Green Gables�, �Lord of the Rings�, and �Harry Potter�.
3. Do you have a favorite poem? (Share it!)
My favorite is easily Alfred Noyes�s �The Highwayman�. Complete text is at the end of this entry.
4. What is one thing you've always wanted to read, or wish you had more time to read?
I have read some, but I would like to re-read and finish all of the Narnia books
5. What are you currently reading?
I am still working on Mystic River.
___________
The Highwayman
By
Alfred Noyes
Part One
I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-
V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.
Part Two
I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
Marching-marching-
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.
III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!
IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.
VI
Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!
VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night
!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.
VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.
* * * * * *
X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
