Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Dear Diary,
Such a shame that I was, again, unable to attend Chapel and hear the wise words of our own dear 'Wevewand'. There were arrangements to be made for our move to Far Corfe. We had to re-enter the Grange to retrieve some belongings and clothes and this proved time consuming. The ladies remained safely outside and barked their orders and requirements of Ned, Father and I but often we would emerge only to find they would sigh and say;
"No! Not that one....the blue one," and we would return inside with gritted teeth.
Poor Fanny! There is little we can retrieve of her possessions and her frocks are either scorched or ruined by the smoke. The ladies of Cobbler's End have been generous with their wardrobe and have provided her with a few garments to see her through until she can purchase more in the boutiques of Pimpton.
We are staying the night at the Inn in Cobbler's Bottom. It is not what we are used to in terms of comforts but much more 'pweferable' to another night at the Parsonage.
My room was directly across the road from Sam the Blacksmith's house.
Such a boon!
Watching him ready himself for bed took my mind off losing my fiancee. I almost had palpitations when he bent over to pick up some unseen object from his floor; not because of the view though, but because a voice in my ear suddenly whispered;
"I see it's a full moon, Mr Austen."
It was Ned come to turn down my linen.
Kristin Chenowith - Home
14 years ago
9 comments:
Dear Wayne,
Very nice poem.
B.
My Dear Mr Austen,
I am saddened for you at your loss. Well, losses, for that matter, for not only have you lost your home, but also your intended. Although I did warn you that you must look into the sorrowful deaths of Miss St. Amour's late family.
I do hope that you can find True Love. Perhaps you should have a frank discussion with Willow when you have come to Far Corfe.
On another matter, is there any plan for Titty to one day proudly bear the name of Titty Reckson?
N. Dowd
Everhard House
Netherwood
Would I could cast a sail on the water
Where many a king has gone
And many a king’s daughter,
And alight at the comely trees and the lawn,
The playing upon pipes and the dancing,
And learn that the best thing is
To change my loves while dancing
And pay but a kiss for a kiss.
I would find by the edge of that water
The collar-bone of a hare
Worn thin by the lapping of water,
And pierce it through with a gimlet and stare
At the old bitter world where they marry in churches,
And laugh over the untroubled water
At all who marry in churches,
Through the white thin bone of a hare.
W. B. Yeats
My dear Mr. Austen,
as things seem to have taken a somewhat poetic turn, I thought I might entertain your readers with a plangent and deeply felt composition of mine own:
There was a young man from Ealing
He went sunbathing once - in Darjeeling
He lay out too late!
In a "natural" state
Then complained that his "pink bits" were peeling!
Sir Studly Buckwell bart.
Dear Wayne,
I get the poem now.
A full moon view is always nice to see.
Turn down your linen? Gawh crikey! Ned serves you well.
Yours enviously,
B.
My dear Mr Dowd,
I cannot speak for Ned but I know him to generally be an upright fellow of good standing and I am sure that one day he shall make an honest woman of our Titty.
Yours matrimonially,
Wayne Austen
My dear Mr Gemme,
I am indeed grateful to you and Mr Yeats for drawing our attention to the terrible state of affairs in Ireland. I propose we organise 'Hare Aid' and provide much needed bones and gimlets. What say you?
Yours charitably,
Wayne Austen
My dear Mr Buckwell,
Do you have any other recourse for providing a living?
Yours concerned,
Wayne Austen
My dear Mr Moose,
A full moon is always a delight to behold.
Yours fundamentally,
Wayne Austen
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