Wordsworth: Resolution and Independence / Lewis Carroll: Haddocks' Eyes // Carl Rakosi: Two Country Poems / Bunker Mentality

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"Oh, don't hurt me! cried Tom. I only want to look at you; you are so handsome": Jessie Willcox Smith, in Charles Kingsley: The Water Babies, 1916 (Library of Congress)

William Wordsworth: Resolution and Independence / Lewis Carroll: Haddocks' Eyes and The Aged Aged Man (Upon the Lonely Moor)

HIT: Laura Haddock in Ashli Couture: photo by Ian Gavan / The Guardian, 8 February 2015

 

Laura Haddock in Da Vinci's Demons: photo by Ian Gavan / The Guardian, 14 June 2013

Confined … Laura Haddock in Storage 24e:  photo by Ian Gavan / The Guardian, 28 February 2012

Laura Haddock proves that plaits have been upgraded from festivals to dressy sports spectating. Even Colin Firth is impressed (maybe).: photo by John Walton/PA, 4 July 2014

Great trip to Peterhead Fish Market today #fishy #haddock: image via Janne Haugen @JanneHaugen, 10 October 2014

@JBryanNelson yes they have expensive the last few months ..down a bit lately with more supply coming in #haddock: image via Budding Rose PD418@buddingrose418, 8 December 2015

William Wordsworth: Resolution and Independence

There was a roaring in the wind all night;

The rain came heavily and fell in floods;

But now the sun is rising calm and bright;

The birds are singing in the distant woods;

Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;

The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;

And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

All things that love the sun are out of doors;

The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;

The grass is bright with rain-drops; -- on the moors

The hare is running races in her mirth;

And with her feet she from the plashy earth

Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,

Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

I was a Traveller then upon the moor;

I saw the hare that raced about with joy;

I heard the woods and distant waters roar;

Or heard them not, as happy as a boy:

The pleasant season did my heart employ:

My old remembrances went from me wholly;

And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.

But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might

Of joys in minds that can no further go,

As high as we have mounted in delight

In our dejection do we sink as low;

To me that morning did it happen so;

And fears and fancies thick upon me came;

Dim sadness -- and blind thoughts, I knew not, nor could name.

I heard the sky-lark warbling in the sky;

And I bethought me of the playful hare:

Even such a happy Child of earth am I;

Even as these blissful creatures do I fare;

Far from the world I walk, and from all care;

But there may come another day to me --

Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and poverty.

My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,

As if life's business were a summer mood;

As if all needful things would come unsought

To genial faith, still rich in genial good;

But how can He expect that others should

Build for him, sow for him, and at his call

Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy,

The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride;

Of Him who walked in glory and in joy

Following his plough, along the mountain-side:

By our own spirits are we deified:

We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;

But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

Now, whether it were by peculiar grace,

A leading from above, a something given,

Yet it befell that, in this lonely place,

When I with these untoward thoughts had striven,

Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven

I saw a Man before me unawares:

The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie

Couched on the bald top of an eminence;

Wonder to all who do the same espy,

By what means it could thither come, and whence;

So that it seems a thing endued with sense:

Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf

Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself;

Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead,

Nor all asleep -- in his extreme old age:

His body was bent double, feet and head

Coming together in life's pilgrimage;

As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage

Of sickness felt by him in times long past,

A more than human weight upon his frame had cast.

Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face,

Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood:

And, still as I drew near with gentle pace,

Upon the margin of that moorish flood

Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood,

That heareth not the loud winds when they call,

And moveth all together, if it move at all.

At length, himself unsettling, he the pond

Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look

Upon the muddy water, which he conned,

As if he had been reading in a book:

And now a stranger's privilege I took;

And, drawing to his side, to him did say,

"This morning gives us promise of a glorious day."

A gentle answer did the old Man make,

In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew:

And him with further words I thus bespake,

"What occupation do you there pursue?

This is a lonesome place for one like you."

Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise

Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes.

His words came feebly, from a feeble chest,

But each in solemn order followed each,

With something of a lofty utterance drest --

Choice word and measured phrase, above the reach

Of ordinary men; a stately speech;

Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use,

Religious men, who give to God and man their dues.

He told, that to these waters he had come

To gather leeches, being old and poor:

Employment hazardous and wearisome!

And he had many hardships to endure:

From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor;

Housing, with God's good help, by choice or chance;

And in this way he gained an honest maintenance.

The old Man still stood talking by my side;

But now his voice to me was like a stream

Scarce heard; nor word from word could I divide;

And the whole body of the Man did seem

Like one whom I had met with in a dream;

Or like a man from some far region sent,

To give me human strength, by apt admonishment.

My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills;

And hope that is unwilling to be fed;

Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills;

And mighty Poets in their misery dead.

 -- Perplexed, and longing to be comforted,

My question eagerly did I renew,

"How is it that you live, and what is it you do?"

He with a smile did then his words repeat;

And said that, gathering leeches, far and wide

He travelled; stirring thus about his feet

The waters of the pools where they abide.

"Once I could meet with them on every side;

But they have dwindled long by slow decay;

Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may."

While he was talking thus, the lonely place,

The old Man's shape, and speech -- all troubled me:

In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace

About the weary moors continually,

Wandering about alone and silently.

While I these thoughts within myself pursued,

He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.

And soon with this he other matter blended,

Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind,

But stately in the main; and, when he ended,

I could have laughed myself to scorn to find

In that decrepit Man so firm a mind.

"God," said I, "be my help and stay secure;

   I'll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!"

William Wordsworth (1770-1850): Resolution and Independence, 1802

Lewis Carroll: Haddocks' Eyes / Upon the Lonely Moor

Laura Haddock and the ‘Princess deep-V’: photo by Jon Furniss/Corbis/Splash News via the Guardian, 8 February 2015

 

"You are sad," the Knight said in an anxious tone: "Let me sing you a song to comfort you."

"Is it very long?" Alice asked, for she had heard a good deal of poetry that day.
 
“It's long,” said the Knight, “but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it - either it brings the tears to their eyes, or else -”

“Or else what?” said Alice, for the Knight had made a sudden pause.

“Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called ‘Haddocks' Eyes.’”

“Oh, that's the name of the song, is it?" Alice said, trying to feel interested.

“No, you don't understand,” the Knight said, looking a little vexed. “That's what the name is called. The name really is ‘The Aged Aged Man.’”

“Then I ought to have said ‘That's what the song is called’?” Alice corrected herself.

“No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The song is called ‘Ways And Means’: but that's only what it's called, you know!”

“Well, what is the song, then?” said Alice, who was by this time completely bewildered.

“I was coming to that,” the Knight said. “The song really is ‘A-sitting On A Gate’: and the tune's my own invention.”

The Poem

I'll tell thee everything I can:

    There's little to relate.

I saw an aged aged man,

    A-sitting on a gate.

"Who are you, aged man?" I said,

    "And how is it you live?"

And his answer trickled through my head,

    Like water through a sieve.

He said "I look for butterflies

    That sleep among the wheat:

I make them into mutton-pies,

    And sell them in the street.

I sell them unto men," he said,

    "Who sail on stormy seas;

And that's the way I get my bread –

    A trifle, if you please."

But I was thinking of a plan

    To dye one's whiskers green,

And always use so large a fan

    That they could not be seen.

So, having no reply to give

    To what the old man said,

I cried "Come, tell me how you live!"

    And thumped him on the head.

His accents mild took up the tale:

    He said "I go my ways,

And when I find a mountain-rill,

    I set it in a blaze;

And thence they make a stuff they call

    Rowlands' Macassar-Oil -- 

Yet twopence-halfpenny is all

    They give me for my toil."

But I was thinking of a way

    To feed oneself on batter,

And so go on from day to day

    Getting a little fatter.

I shook him well from side to side,

    Until his face was blue:

"Come, tell me how you live," I cried,

    "And what it is you do!"

He said "I hunt for haddocks' eyes

    Among the heather bright,

And work them into waistcoat-buttons

    In the silent night.

And these I do not sell for gold

    Or coin of silvery shine,

But for a copper halfpenny,

    And that will purchase nine.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,

    Or set limed twigs for crabs:

I sometimes search the grassy knolls

    For wheels of Hansom-cabs.

And that's the way" (he gave a wink)

    "By which I get my wealth --

And very gladly will I drink

    Your Honour's noble health."

I heard him then, for I had just

    Completed my design

To keep the Menai bridge from rust

    By boiling it in wine.

I thanked him much for telling me

    The way he got his wealth,

But chiefly for his wish that he

    Might drink my noble health.

And now, if e'er by chance I put

    My fingers into glue,

Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot

    Into a left-hand shoe,

Or if I drop upon my toe

    A very heavy weight,

I weep, for it reminds me so

Of that old man I used to know --

Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow

Whose hair was whiter than the snow,

Whose face was very like a crow,

With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,

Who seemed distracted with his woe,

Who rocked his body to and fro,

And muttered mumblingly and low,

As if his mouth were full of dough,

Who snorted like a buffalo --

That summer evening long ago,

    A-sitting on a gate.

Lewis Carroll (1832-1898): from Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There,1871

Postcard photo of an unknown young man at Herne Bay, Kent, England, dated 1903-1914. The photographer was Fred C. Palmer of Tower Studio, Herne Bay, Kent, who is believed to have died 1936-1939. The man is wearing a fob with Masonic insignia on his watch chain. His hair is plastered down with macassar oil.His waistcoat (vest in U.S.) is edged with woven fabric, but the main body of the waistcoat appears to be hand-knitted. The informal pose and position in front of a door-frame was unusual at that time; he may be a friend or relative of Fred C. Palmer: image via Storye book, 16 March 2011



Pont Menai [Menai bridge]: photo by John Thomas (1838-1905), c. 1875; image by John Cummings, 3 April 2013 (John Thomas Collection at the National Library of Wales)

 

A View of Menai Suspension Bridge in Bangor, North Wales. Built by one of England's greatest civil engineers, Thomas Telford (1757 - 1834); construction began in 1819 and the bridge opened for traffic in 1826. It crosses the Menai Straits between Bangor and Anglesey.: photo by Francis Bedford (1816 - 1894), c. 1880 (National Media Museum, UK)

Sunrise from Menai Bridge, Isle of Anglesey, looking east towards Bangor Pier: photo by Talsmu Times, 6 October 2012

A haddock caught in the nets of a Scottish trawler: photo by Christopher Furlong / The Guardian, 10 September 2010

Lewis Carroll: Upon the Lonely Moor

I met an aged, aged man

Upon the lonely moor:

I knew I was a gentleman,

And he was but a boor.

So I stopped and roughly questioned him,

"Come, tell me how you live!"

But his words impressed my ear no more

Than if it were a sieve.

He said, "I look for soap-bubbles,

That lie among the wheat,

And bake them into mutton-pies,

And sell them in the street.

I sell them unto men," he said,

"Who sail on stormy seas;

And that's the way I get my bread --

A trifle, if you please."

But I was thinking of a way

To multiply by ten,

And always, in the answer, get

The question back again.

I did not hear a word he said,

But kicked that old man calm,

And said, "Come, tell me how you live!"

And pinched him in the arm.

His accents mild took up the tale:

He said, "I go my ways,

And when I find a mountain-rill,

I set it in a blaze.

And thence they make a stuff they call

Rowland's Macassar Oil;

But fourpence-halfpenny is all

They give me for my toil."

But I was thinking of a plan

To paint one's gaiters green,

So much the color of the grass

That they could ne'er be seen.

I gave his ear a sudden box,

And questioned him again,

And tweaked his grey and reverend locks,

And put him into pain.

He said, "I hunt for haddock's eyes

Among the heather bright,

And work them into waistcoat-buttons

In the silent night.

And these I do not sell for gold,

Or coin or silver-mine,

But for a copper-halfpenny,

And that will purchase nine.

"I sometimes dig for buttered rolls,

Or set limed twigs for crabs;

I sometimes search the flowery knolls

For wheels of hansom cabs.

And that's the way" (he gave a wink)

"I get my living here,

And very gladly will I drink

Your Honour's health in beer."

I heard him then, for I had just

Completed my design

To keep the Menai bridge from rust

By boiling it in wine.

I duly thanked him, ere I went,

For all his stories queer,

But chiefly for his kind intent

To drink my health in beer.

And now if e'er by chance I put

My fingers into glue,

Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot

Into a left-hand shoe;

Or if a statement I aver

Of which I am not sure,

I think of that strange wanderer

Upon the lonely moor.

Lewis Carroll (1832-1898): Upon the Lonely Moor, 1856 

Through the Looking Glass

DSC4173: photo by Prokhorskynet, 26 February 2017

DSC4173: photo by Prokhorskynet, 26 February 2017

DSC4173: photo by Prokhorskynet, 26 February 2017

DSCF2753: photo by Oksana Novoselskaya, 7 April 2017

[Untitled]: photo by Dante Sisofo, 21 April 2017

[Untitled]: photo by Dante Sisofo, 21 April 2017

[Untitled]: photo by Dante Sisofo, 21 April 2017

food chain: photo by Enrico Markus Essl, 9 April 2017

_7250671: photo by Caspar Claasen, 25 July 2016

_7250671: photo by Caspar Claasen, 25 July 2016

_7250671: photo by Caspar Claasen, 25 July 2016

Conte d'autumne #3: photo by Francesca Mach, 14 September 2016

Conte d'autumne #3: photo by Francesca Mach, 14 September 2016

Conte d'autumne #3: photo by Francesca Mach, 14 September 2016

One cold evening.. [Poland]: photo by Monika Krzyczkowska, 19 November 2016

[Untitled, Sao Paulo]: photo by Gustavo Gomes, 9 November 2013

[Untitled, Sao Paulo]: photo by Gustavo Gomes, 9 November 2013

[Untitled, Sao Paulo]: photo by Gustavo Gomes, 9 November 2013

[Untitled, Belgrade]: photo by Aleksandra Perovic, 19 April 2017

[Untitled, Belgrade]: photo by Aleksandra Perovic, 19 April 2017

[Untitled, Belgrade]: photo by Aleksandra Perovic, 19 April 2017

Carl Rakosi: "like air music" (Two Country Poems)

This native of Randolph Center, Vermont, quit a Job as an auto mechanic to return to the family farm in hopes of keeping it running. In addition to Jersey cow milk, he and his mother sell goat's milk to private customers and a local nursing home: photo by Jane Cooper for the Environmental Protection Agency's DOCUMERICA Project, May 1974 (U. S. National Archives) 

Am I the only one

                           watching   

my neighbour’s

                      frolicksome goat,

Ginger,

            tied to a pecan tree?   

All morning

                  it has been examining

an empty bushel basket

                                  and has lifted

one leg delicately

                            like a circus horse

as if to roll it,

                           but whether to do that

or to butt it

                     with its small horns,

that is the question.

                                 Not of great moment,

no signing of the Charter,

                                        but like air music,   

quickest of the elements.

                                       Towards which I leaped!

 
Carl Rakosi (1903-2004): from Ginger, in The Collected Poems of Carl Rakosi, 1986

This woman lives on a dairy farm near Randolph Center, Vermont, that has been owned by the family for six generations.  Low milk prices and increasing property taxes threaten her way of life: photo by Jane Cooper for the Environmental Protection Agency's DOCUMERICA Project, June 1974 (U. S. National Archives)



The surviving child of 13 offspring, this man has lived alone since his mother's death 25 years ago. He continues to run the family farm, and tends a herd of 30 Whitefaced cattle, plus four pigs and 15 dogs: photo by Jane Cooper for the Environmental Protection Agency's DOCUMERICA Project, June 1974 (U. S. National Archives) 


 
Resident of Roxbury, Vermont, draws off the finished syrup from a homemade evaporator. Instead of working in a sugar house he sets up a makeshift rig in a new spot each year to use fallen timber and loose brush to fire the sawed-off oil drum: photo by Jane Cooper for the Environmental Protection Agency's DOCUMERICA Project, May 1974 (U. S. National Archives)
  "Looks like one of the Webster boys. They've all passed on now". "I showed this to a friend, she's pretty sure that's Curtis Webster. He lost the fingers of one hand in a railroad accident." -- Viewer comment, 2010  

Who can say now,

“When I was young, the country was very beautiful?   

Oaks and willows grew along the rivers

and there were many herbs and flowering bushes.   

The forests were so dense the deer slipped through   

the cottonwoods and maples unseen.”

Who would listen?

Who will carry even the vicarious tone of that time?

In the old days

                        age was honored.

Today it’s whim,

                         the whelp without habitat.

Who will now admit

                            that he is either old or young   

or knows anything?

All that went out with the forests.

Carl Rakosi (1903-2004): The Old Codger’s Lament. from The Collected Poems of Carl Rakosi, 1986

 
Uncharacteristically somber, this 76-year-old native of East Randolph, Vermont, finishes his morning's third cup of coffee. Since his legs went bad he is now able to do only small repair jobs. His work career Included that of a farmer, lumberjack, mechanic, ice cutter, hotel manager, professional chauffeur and handyman: photo by Jane Cooper for the Environmental Protection Agency's DOCUMERICA Project, June 1974 (U. S. National Archives)
"Trust me, we are still living that way." -- Viewer comment, 2010

Bunker Mentality

#Ivanka appears to be the defacto #flotus. Is this more than nepotism? What kind of twisted mess is #Trump #WH? Just asking: image via Jaru Rascus James @Sonofrascus, 23 April 2017

Reuters Top NewsVerified account @Reuters
White House sidewalk to be closed to public permanently
James Fallows Retweeted Reuters Top News

James Fallows added,

If you’ve never been near, or worked in, the White House, this might seem reasonable. It’s not. Paranoia / security state.

image via James Fallows @Jamesfallows, 19 April 2017

Bunker mentality.: image via Reading the Pictures @ReadingThePix, 20 April 2017

Springing into the weekend!: image via Ivanka Trump @IvankaTrump, 21 April 2017

As the sums achieved through their rampant emolument grabbing
spiral higher and higher and higher into the bought toxic sky

like a beautiful missile launch of pure murican selfishness, it feels ever more

as though the country had become a rigged slot machine in their private casino

fixed wonderfully to make it pay off for them every time.

During #Passover, we reflect on the significance of the exodus from Egypt and celebrate the great freedoms we enjoy today! #ChaqPesach: image via Ivanka Trump @IvankaTrump, 10 April 2017

CNN PoliticsVerified account @CNNPolitics

Eric Trump says Ivanka Trump influenced their father's decision to strike Syria

Jeannie Hartley Retweeted CNN Politics

Jeannie Hartley added,

#Impeach the whole damn bunch #IVANKA has NO RIGHT to suggest bombing #Syria #ImpeachTrump #RussiaGate #Treason
image via Jeannie Hartley @Jeannie_Hartley

Poll: Majority says #Ivanka #Trump, Jared #Kushner's WH roles inappropriate | TheHill: image via Gregory Grushko @ggrushko, 20 April 2017

 I'm so sweet

Philip BumpVerified account @pbump

The White House confirms that Trump congratulated Erdogan on Turkey's referendum.
Max Fisher Retweeted Philip Bump

Even after everything, this is astounding. Formally and publicly congratulating an act of authoritarianization. Astounding.

image via Max Fisher @Max_Fisher, 17 April 2017

Ivanka TrumpVerified account @IvankaTrump

Thank you Prime Minister Erdogan for joining us yesterday to celebrate the launch of #TrumpTowers Istanbul!
Evan McMullin Retweeted Ivanka Trump
Evan McMullin added,
The Trump family administration has a particular motive for supporting Turkey's despot at the expense of American interests

tweet via Evan McMullin @Evan_McMullin, 17 April 2017

Ivanka TrumpVerified account @IvankaTrump

Thank you Prime Minister Erdogan for joining us yesterday to celebrate the launch of #TrumpTowers Istanbul! 
Ana Navarro Retweeted Ivanka Trump
Ana Navarro added, 
Oooh. Now, I get why despite trampling democracy, jailing opposition, protests over election fraud - Trump congratulated Erdogan's "victory".

tweet via Evan McMullin @Evan_McMullin, 17 April 2017

Ivanka TrumpVerified account @IvankaTrump

Thank you Prime Minister Erdogan for joining us yesterday to celebrate the launch of #TrumpTowers Istanbul! 
John Retweeted Ivanka Trump 
John added,
I'm Ivanka. I'm so sweet. Btw, thanks for promoting our brand, dear dictator who kills Kurds and locks up journalists.

tweet via John @linnyitssn, 17 April 2017

Thank you President Xi Jinping and Madame Peng Liyuan for your visit to the United States: image via Ivanka Trump @IvankaTrump, 9 April 2017

President Donald Trump and his daughter Ivanka walk to board Marine One on the South Lawn of the White House in Washington. Ivanka Trump's company continues to grow. Ethics lawyers fear the more her business expands, the more it may encroach on her ability, and the ability of her husband, Jared Kushner, to credibly advise the president on core issues.: photo by Evan Vucci / AP, 1 February 2017

Replying to @LawyerRogelio Is #Ivanka exempt from this?: image via CaliBohoChic @CaliBohoChic, 18 April 2017
 

Success - #trump style #RichKids #ivanka #privilege #nepotism #trumpfamily: image via Frameless Space @framelespace, 20 April 2017

Clubbing. #resist #Ivanka: image via Pia Guerra @PiaGuerra, 19 April 2017 

#Ivanka's skirt looks like it has a fluted / trumpet / ruffled hem line.: image via White House Wardrobe @whitehousedress: image via White House Wardrobe @whitehousedress, 21 April 2017

#Ivanka is in a peplum dress dotted with primary colors today. Photo @Getty: image via White House Wardrobe @whitehousedress, 21 April 2017