#o'er the land

[absencesrepetees]

o'er the land (deborah stratman, 2009)

#o'er the land #deborah stratman #s

[historia-vitae-magistras]

How do you think Jack would have acted during the famine? Knowing it was essentially a genocide to get rid of his aunt?

So, he's young. He knows something is happening, he knows there's more and more Irish at home and that people are starving. He's less aware of why, and the hard mechanics of it, the convert or starve, markets all over the world being full of Irish grain and English landlords money is harder to fathom. His head is full of the songs of the Irish mourning their fates in Australia. He's not grown or independent. Letters from Brighid are rare and usually posted to Matt via Alfred before being passed on to Jack. Information is controlled and he is a child. He hears things, he has an inkling but I think it would be hard to understand. He loves her so much, but its a Union Jack flying over Botany Bay and she loves him but he and Alfred both are a sad fate for many Irish immigrants, especially in that period.

#the ask box || probis pateo #Jack and Brighid || bound for Botany Bay #Alfred and Brighid || o'er the raging foam to seek a home #Brighid || An Bearna Bhaoil #Jack || a land of summer skies

[rin-enjoyer]

It's late. Even underground, in the winding labyrinth of tunnels beneath Konoha where no natural light falls, Danzo can tell. There's a scent to the air.

Normally, he works through these quiet hours with the same dedication that he carries at all times. Tonight, however, his stacks of paperwork have all been meticulously combed through, signed, and filed. No one needs his attention. Nothing is wrong.

Danzo picks up his cane and begins the trek back to his old clan compound. He does not visit often. He is usually busy. He is not busy tonight.

His bones ache with a sort of weariness that denotes no real problem. He has learned to ignore this sort of pain. He ascends out of the tunnels, not bothering to muffle the sound of his footsteps with chakra.

He does not blink when he comes out to Konoha's streets. It is just as dark out here as it was in the tunnels. It is late out. A glance at the thin, crescent moon puts the time somewhere around 1.

Danzo makes his way past shopfronts, apartments, and fields. His memory of the layout of the village is annoyingly spotty. The streets have changed too much since the Kyuubi's attack, and he does not spend much time in them.

He walks past Hokage tower. The light in Hiruzen's office is on, casting a dim, yellow glow into the air. Danzo does not stop to see him. Soft, tender moments would ruin the sparks between them. He cannot think of anything more unappealing than stopping to relearn everything about the man who puts poison in his tea once a week.

He used to know Hiruzen. It was a mistake. A good shinobi does not have time for sentiment. Teamwork is a strength- relationships are weaknesses.

He wanders the streets for what seems like an eternity, a ghost in the village he has given and will give everything for. He does not regret it. He does not regret anything. He has done everything right.

Like the dull, distant pain in his hip, something tugs at his gut. Danzo ignores it. He knows what he is protecting. He knows why he does the things he does. He does not regret it.

He does not look back at the light in Hiruzen's office. The hair on his neck prickles- he can feel Hiruzen's gaze, how it carefully avoids him, observing the street around him, but not Danzo. A good shinobi has no time for sentiment. Hiruzen may be starting to fall apart in his old age, but lessons he learned alongside Danzo decades ago still stick to him like wet, rotting leaves.

Danzo finds his way to the Shimura Compound. There are heaps of fertilizer sitting in the garden, ready to be mixed into the soil. The smell of rotting leaves dances around the smell of the night. Crickets, hiding in bushes of nightshade, chirp a quiet, steady song.

The siding of the buildings in the compound is all pristine, brown and orange and achingly unfamiliar. Danzo knows how to ignore aches that do not matter. There are twelve in total, each housing one or two families. Danzo knows every name and face of his clan. He has met sparingly few of them.

He does not miss them. He does not miss the way he used to live. He creeps into the house in the center of the compound, past the rooms where the clan head and her four nephews sleep, into his old, dusty office. He will rest here, for the night, only because there is nothing else for him to do.

Danzo reaches across old scraps of paper with shaky writing and sloppy drawings and turns on his old lamp. A dim, yellow glow fills the room. He leans back in his chair. His hip aches. His hands shake. He does not regret anything, but quietly, because there is nothing else to do, he allows himself to feel very, very bad.

The lamp burns, and the leaves rot, and the crickets chirp. Dim yellow light slips through the window and paints stripes through the garden of poisonous plants. Danzo rests, and lets himself ache, and the night drags on.

#shimura danzo #hiruzen sarutobi #DO YOU GUYS SEE MY VISION DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND #guy who feels so terrible all the time because of the emotional repression and ptsd and then is like “well whatever” #and goes and commits war crimes. in the name of a greater cause. grabs him by the shoulders. ahem. #SIR WHAT GREATER CAUSE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE SERVING . EXCUSE ME. A MOMENT OF YOU TIME PLEASE #hes not uniquely horrible o'er there in ninja land but like. OHGHGHGH he is a Good Shinobi. he's good at his job #and that means that he's jsut not a very good person. and he tears himself and anyone else within reach to shreds #danzen #naruto fanfiction #idk man idk. he drives me insane. “sentiment BAD” why are you still “trying” to kill hiruzen then? huh? huh? why isnt he dead yet #iiiiif it came down to it i do not think he would hesitate to kill that guy. but in the moments when its not necessary? well. haha. #anyways as it turns out trying to kill the guy you love for years on end as an excuse to not ACTUALLY have to kill him #turns the trying to kill each other into the way you flirt. you understand how it is. #whatever. WHATEVER. you guys know how it is.

[weirdlookindog]

The Aldine 'O'er Land and Sea Library #53 - Aldine Publishing, England 1890.

#the aldine 'o'er land and sea library #illustration #werewolf #werewolves #horror art

[whats-in-a-sentence]

'Sur une gamme chromatique,

Le sein de perles ruisselant,

La Vénus de l'Adriatique

Sort de l'eau son corps rose et blanc.

Les dômes, sur l'azur des ondes

Suivant la phrase au pur contour,

S'enflent comme des gorges rondes

Que soulève un soupir d'amour.

L'esquif aborde et me dépose,

Jetant son amarre au pilier,

Devant une façade rose,

Sur le marbre d'un escalier.'

"The Picture of Dorian Gray" - Oscar Wilde

#book quotes #the picture of dorian gray #oscar wilde #french #poetry #theophile gautier #to see her‚ her bosom covered o'er #with pearls‚ her body suave‚ #the adriatic venus soar #on sound's chromatic wave. #the domes that on the water dwell #pursue the melody #in clear drawn cadences‚ and swell #like breasts of love that sigh. #my chains around a pillar cast #i land before a fair #and rosy-pale façade at last #upon a marble stair.

[connie-art]

why is making content for my own aus so damn hard. what the hell.

#connietalks #and i have a sinus infection hell and agony and despair o'er the land

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil! We were talking about Puck of Pook's Hill in one of my seminars, and we were wondering if your Puck in The Sandman was inspired by that book?

Yes and no. Puck of Pook's Hill is hugely influential on me and the way I think about the land and Sussex, and I'm sure it was an influence on Sandman #19.

But my wild Puck is closer to the Robin Goodfellow of the ballad:

From Oberon, in fairy land, The king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad Robin I, at his command, Am sent to view the night-sports here. What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o'ersee, And merry be, And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho

More swift than lightning can I fly About this airy welkin soon, And, in a minute's space, descry Each thing that's done below the moon. There's not a hag Or ghost shall wag, Or cry, 'ware goblins! where I go; But Robin I Their feats will spy, And send them home with ho, ho, ho!

Whene'er such wanderers I meet, As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet, And call them on with me to roam: Through woods, through lakes; Through bogs, through brakes; Or else, unseen, with them I go, All in the nick, To play some trick, And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!

Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound; And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round. But if to ride My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go, O'er hedge and lands, Through pools and ponds, I hurry, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When lads and lasses merry be, With possets and with junkets fine; Unseen of all the company, I eat their cakes and sip their wine! And, to make sport, I puff and snort: And out the candles I do blow: The maids I kiss, They shriek—Who's this? I answer nought but ho, ho, ho!

Yet now and then, the maids to please, At midnight I card up their wool; And, while they sleep and take their ease, With wheel to threads their flax I pull. I grind at mill Their malt up still; I dress their hemp; I spin their tow; If any wake, And would me take, I wend me, laughing, ho, ho, ho!

When any need to borrow aught, We lend them what they do require: And, for the use demand we nought; Our own is all we do desire. If to repay They do delay, Abroad amongst them then I go, And night by night, I them affright, With pinchings, dreams, and ho, ho, ho!

When lazy queans have nought to do, But study how to cog and lie: To make debate and mischief too, 'Twixt one another secretly: I mark their gloze, And it disclose To them whom they have wronged so: When I have done, I get me gone, And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!

When men do traps and engines set In loop-holes, where the vermin creep, Who from their folds and houses get Their ducks and geese, and lambs and sheep; I spy the gin, And enter in, And seem a vermin taken so; But when they there Approach me near, I leap out laughing, ho, ho, ho!

By wells and rills, in meadows green, We nightly dance our heyday guise; And to our fairy king and queen, We chant our moonlight minstrelsies. When larks 'gin sing, Away we fling; And babes new born steal as we go; And elf in bed We leave in stead, And wend us laughing, ho, ho, ho!

From hag-bred Merlin's time, have I Thus nightly revelled to and fro; And for my pranks men call me by The name of Robin Good-fellow. Fiends, ghosts, and sprites, Who haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know; And beldames old My feats have told, So vale, vale; ho, ho, ho!

[imyourbratzdoll]

Ooh ohh! DarkSiren reader x pirate ransom!!! Pleasee

hello honey! this was fun to write, and I hope you like it!

summary - you are the siren that wants the famous pirate ransom drysdale, and the moment you get close to getting what you want, the universe decides otherwise.

warning - slight angst, stalking, dark content, mentions of whores, seducing, mentions of kidnapping.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You had known of the famous pirate that roamed the seas. You had followed him, watching from afar as he ordered his crew around. You watched as the many whorish human women tried and failed to gain his attention. Some only managed to get to his bed and were sent off the same night. You could see how dissatisfied the pirate was. As if he yearned for something more, something… Unique. You watched from the shadows. Your body is submerged deep in the cooling water. You knew that the humans had heard and created stories based on what you were, some even hunted you, and sometimes they succeeded in catching your kind. Your sisters had been taken, locked away to be experimented on. 

You wanted the pirate. He was a dream. You wanted to claim him as your own. So you followed him the next morning, not getting too close to the ship as you didn’t want the others to spot you. You had a plan, knowing he sometimes ventured off alone once they reached land, enjoying time to himself. What better way to finally get what you want. You swam to shore, perching yourself on a rock away from the pirates but close enough to get the one you want to hear you. You waited until you heard him approaching the area, his mind elsewhere. 

“Upon one summer's morning, I carelessly did stray,

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay,

Conversing with a bouncing lass, who seem'd to be in pain,

Saying, William, when you go, I fear you will ne'er return again.”

You watch as he turns to look in your direction. You can see him slowly fall under your spell as the words flow from your lips. You beckon him over, giving him an innocent smile as you don’t want to set off any alarms in his head. The pirate begins to make his way over dazedly, a lovestruck look in his eyes.

“His hair it does in ringlets hang, his eyes as black as sloes,

May happiness attend him wherever he goes,

From Tower Hill, down to Blackwall, I will wander, weep and moan,

All for my jolly sailor bold, until he does return.”

He stares, softly swaying as you continue to sing. Your siren voice makes the song sound smooth and seductive, calling to the pirate like water calls him. You sound like the waves crashing against the rocks and birds singing. You sound like perfection to Ransom. You were both a pirate’s dream and nightmare, all mixed in one. In the back of his mind, he knew he should try to fight this, that Ransom was in danger if he continued getting closer to you. He was captivated, his eyes taking in how beautiful you looked, your hair flowing freely in the breeze, your skin glistening against the sun, your breasts pushed together perfectly, and your tail was so close to perfection, the gold reflected wonderfully against it all. 

“My father is a merchant—the truth I now will tell,

And in great London City in opulence doth dwell,

His fortune doth exceed ₤300,000 in gold,

And he frowns upon his daughter, 'cause she loves a sailor bold.”

Your voice travels, swirling around his head and pulling him closer to you. You were so close to finally getting the man you have been wanting. You grin as you reach your hand out and stroke his cheek, sighing a soft sigh as you finally feel his flesh against yours. He had to be the cleanest pirate out there, his face clean-shaven and his hair slicked back. You lean closer, your lips nearly touching his as you continue seducing him with your siren song.

“A fig for his riches, his merchandize, and gold,

True love is grafted in my heart; give me my sailor bold:

Should he return in poverty, from o'er the ocean far,

To my tender bosom, I'll fondly press my jolly tar.”

Ransom’s pupils enlarge, causing his blue eyes to nearly turn black. His eyes are half-lidded, and his gaze flickers between your eyes and your plump lips, feeling the deep desire to seal your words with a kiss. His mind was filled with love, wanting to take you far away from the other pirates, wanting you all to himself. His fingertips itched with needing to grab you and take you far away, keep you chained to his bed as he worshipped you. 

“My sailor is as smiling as the pleasant month of May,

And oft we have wandered through Ratcliffe Highway,

Where many a pretty blooming girl we happy did behold,

Reclining on the bosom of her jolly sailor bold.”

A soft whine escapes Ransom’s mouth as you slowly slide off the rock and into the water, grinning as he begins to follow. He steps into the cooling ocean, and his shoes and pants become soaked. You swim back, continuing to sing to him. You were so close to achieving your dream, so very close.

“Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,

While up aloft, in storm or gale, from me his absence mourn,

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return.”

Ransom goes deeper into the water, coming closer until your bodies touch, and his hands move to cup your cheeks, stroking them with his thumbs. He sighs, falling deeper and deeper under your spell. No longer worried about the world around him or that he is in incredible danger, Ransom didn’t know that his crew had begun to look around for him, wondering where their Captain had gone for so long. 

“My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair,

And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year,

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,

There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.”

You are so close, your lips inches away from each other. You sing the last words of your song, knowing you finally have him in the grasp of your hands. Yours and Ransom’s eyes flutter closed as you are about to kiss. But before your lips can touch, there are shouts, men running toward the area you are in. Your eyes fly open, and you snarl. Your cat-like eyes snap to the pirates, hissing as they shout at you, their weapons raised. You look sadly at Ransom, his eyes opened and watching you, and you quickly launch forward, placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth before flying back and deep into the depths of the ocean. You quickly swim away as the pirates begin to throw their weapons and help pull their Captain out of the water. 

Ransom shakes his head, snapping out of the trance he was in and looking out into the water. His men are talking, pulling him from the ground, but all Ransom can focus on is you. You had now taken over his mind, and he didn’t know if it was because of your siren qualities or you. His face sets into a scowl, growling at his men to return to the ship and leave him alone. Ransom shrugs them off, brushing the sand off his clothes and glaring at the water. He watches as your head pops up a ways away. He can tell you are looking in his direction, and the challenge has started. He knows you want him, but now he wants you, and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. It’s how he is the better pirate out there. No one can tell him no.

Stories would be told many generations later about the pirate and the siren. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #anon reply #imyourbratzdollwork #ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans x female reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans character #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic

[granlance]

"O, lake in alabaster lands of ice, lake brimming o'er with rich acuity…

"How many seek the Pokémon that shows itself there, out to answer its words true and earn its boon through ingenuity?

"But should they fail to understand its words and let its questions meet with no reply, their minds will be wiped clean of memory…

"O, lake in alabaster lands of ice, depths where rich acuity goes to sink."

#artober #artober 2023 #pokemon artober #poketober #poketober 2023 #pokemon #pokemon fanart #pkmn #pkmn fanart #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon legends arceus fanart #pokemon ingo #ingo #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #subway master ingo #fun fact I never played pkmn black and white #so I did not know this guy before legends arceus #and therefore couldn´t understand the importance of this character #probably still don´t as much as I like him #but even if I don´t know about him in depth (hahaha making jokes about my own drawings now oh boy) I have one request #ARCEUS YOU BETTER LET THE BROTHERS REUNITE I SWEAR #(I have no idea how Ingo got to Hisui but the poem about the lake acuity in alabaster icelands is... INTERESTING to say the least) #(memories gone you say? SUSPICIOUS) #(but if Uxie didn´t erase the player´s memory if they failed the test why would they erase Ingo's???? in the end it´s just an idea) #rambling in the tags #as usual

[beingatoaster]

The word had spread from door to door Down the barachois road to the harbour shore Old Joe Labelle would steal the house from the widow Victoria He'd found some deed that claimed her land And a handshake deal just wouldn't stand In a court of law he did demand that the house belonged to him

Ring the church bells in the night We'll gather at the first starlight Bring your lamps, sleighs and mare to save the Widow's home Across the big field, o'er the pond We'll move this house before the dawn When Joe Labelle arrives he'll find his prize already gone

#music #Youtube

[absencesrepetees]

deborah stratman in conversation with shuruq harb

#deborah stratman #o'er the land

[thelien-art]

Thuringwethil; Lady of Shadows

"Thuringwethil I am, who cast a shadow o'er the face aghast of the sallow moon in the doomed land of shivering Beleriand."

Annon, she´s my queen, there´s always time for the vampire lady, I hope you like her as much as me😌

requests are not open this one is just an exception; thank you for being so respectful about it Annon

#tolkien #silmarillion #jrr tolkien #beren and luthien #lay of leithian #thuringwethil #dolwethil #halloween art #halloween #vampire #vampire art #i dont feel like shes the kind of person who likes jewelry even if its from mairon

[dabiconcordia]

The Kindly Neighbor I have a kindly neighbor, one who stands Beside my gate and chats with me awhile, Gives me the glory of his radiant smile And comes at times to help with willing hands. No station high or rank this man commands, He, too, must trudge, as I, the long day's mile; And yet, devoid of pomp or gaudy style, He has a worth exceeding stocks or lands. To him I go when sorrow's at my door, On him I lean when burdens come my way, Together oft we talk our trials o'er And there is warmth in each good-night we say. A kindly neighbor! Wars and strife shall end When man has made the man next door his friend. by Edgar A. Guest

#fencesnewportnews #photo pinterest.com #the kindly neighbor #poem #edgar a. guest

[aredhels]

Thuringwethil I am, who cast a shadow o'er the face aghast of the sallow moon in the doomed land of shivering Beleriand.

#silmedit #tolkienedit #vampireedit #oneringnet #thuringwethil #tuserosie #userlyndeth #usertilions #mine #*pspam #*tolkien #blood tw

[saints-who-never-existed]

God Bless Our Native Land

Okay, so this may just be news to me a proud Scot and staunch anti-monarchist who's made a point of never actually knowing the words to the British national anthem, but it's just come to my attention that Hickey's actually singing quite a specific version of it.

The lyrics heard within the show are credited to William Edward Hickson, a British educational writer, and they first appear in his book The Singing Master, published in 1836.

This is very interesting to me for two reasons.

-

Firstly, while Hickson's lyrics do still have a strong religiosity to them, they are also far less stridently imperialistic and sycophantic in their praise of the divinely-appointed monarch. In fact, they don't make specific mention of a monarch at all. Compare a verse of the more popular, traditional version of the national anthem:

O Lord our God, arise, Scatter her enemies, And make them fall, Confound their politics; Frustrate their knavish tricks; On Thee our hopes we fix; God save us all.

To a verse from Hickson's:

Not on this land alone But be God's mercies known From shore to shore. Lord, make the nations see That men should brothers be, And from one family The wide world o'er.

It makes perfect sense to me that Hickey would espouse one version over the other. Not only would he likely have been in the formative years of his youth/young adulthood when first exposed to Hickson's lyrics, given what we know about Hickey's politics it follows perfectly that he might identify far more with those less imperialistic, less monarchical words.

-

Secondly, it's very important to me and a tiny bit funny to discover the specific point at which Hickey's rendition in the show is cut off by Tuunbaq's impending arrival. Hickson's lyrics continue:

God bless our native land, May heaven's protecting hand Still guard our shore; May peace her power extend Foe be transformed to friend

And suffice it to say, a foe being transformed into a friend is certainly not what happens next!

#He never gets to say it and he never gets to make it happen either! #Bad luck buddy! #The Terror #The Terror AMC #Cornelius Hickey #S01E10 #We Are Gone #Meta #Observations #Random Observations #Two other wee titbits that I discovered: #Hickson funnily enough also went by some kind of pseudonym at some point - 'Richman Hopson' #He was also credited with popularising the proverb 'If at first you don't succeed try try again' #Which in turn can apparently be traced back to the inimitable Frederick Marryat - nautical fiction pioneer - among others

[o-craven-canto]

  Evolution Langdon Smith (1858-1908)

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish   In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide   We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip   Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life,   For I loved you even then. Mindless we lived and mindless we loved   And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift   We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time,   The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death   And crept into life again. We were amphibians, scaled and tailed,   And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees   Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet   Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark   To hint at a life to come. Yet happy we lived and happy we loved,   And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold   Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled   And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day   And the night of death was passed. Then light and swift through the jungle trees   We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms   In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there   When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled   In the first faint dawn of speech. Thus life by life and love by love   We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death   We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life   When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke   In a strange, dim dream of God. I was thewed like an Auroch bull   And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet   Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave,   When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed   We mumbled the bones of the slain. I flaked a flint to a cutting edge   And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank   And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn,   Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone   And slew him upon the brink. Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes,   Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast   The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof   We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl   We talked the marvel o'er. I carved that fight on a reindeer bone   With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall   That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might   Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin   Til our brutal tusks were gone. And that was a million years ago   In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light   We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs,   Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new,   Your soul untried, and yet -- Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay   And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones   And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old,   And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say   We shall not live again? God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds   And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn,   And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves   Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves   Where the mummied mammoths are. Then as we linger at luncheon here   O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you   Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

#poetry #quotes #evolution #prehistory #stuff I like