Tuesday, November 29, 2016

I Didn't Love You

I didn't love you for your pretty face;
Although I loved your modest, quiet beauty
from the very first moment I saw you.
But it wasn't for your face that I loved you.

I didn't love you for your sparkling eyes;
Although I loved your bright, bewitching glance
that conquered me like no army ever could.
But it wasn't for your eyes that I loved you.

I didn't love you for your gentle voice;
Although I loved your enchanting song and speech:
every note, every word like honey.
But it wasn't for your voice that I loved you.

I didn't love you for your luminous charm;
Although I loved your captivating ways—
your electric, intoxicating femininity.
But it wasn't for your charm that I loved you.

I didn't love you for your brilliant mind;
Although I loved your deep, perceptive heart,
your keen, intriguing thoughts and clever wit.
But it wasn't for your mind that I loved you.

I didn't love you for your delicate form;
Although I loved it, elegant and exquisite.
Every curve, every line, perfection.
But it wasn't for your shape that I loved you.

I loved you because your soul touched mine;
and when it did,
for the first time,
I felt like I was Home.

-- M.S. du Pré

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Paleolithic Flute in Pentatonic Scale


This is fascinating. It lends credence to the view that music is universal and not cultural.

The same documentary from which this clip comes shows the oldest known human art as well--cave paintings in France and sculptures in southern Germany. Beautiful, very moving, almost 3-dimensional representations of animals now extinct, in many cases giving us evidence for what they looked like outside where before we only had bones.

And returning to universality, the very oldest cave painting and the very oldest sculpture ever found share a subject: guess what?

(the bear and the bison were superimposed later)

Not that I'm suggesting some kind of crude, puerile interpretation of this; rather, I think it reflects something of the sublime nature of art, beauty, love, and their relation to life on earth that these earliest attempts from thousands of years ago share with the masterworks from the pinnacle of Western civilization, just a century or four ago. Makes you wonder if the purpose of building the first musical instruments was romancing cave girls. It's too bad they didn't have a system of writing: I'd love to know about their poetry.

Monday, November 21, 2016

Beauty and the Beast


I'm quite looking forward to this; I hope it's as good as Cinderella. Beauty and the Beast is my favorite fairy tale. Guess why.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

A Drinking Song

Wine comes in at the mouth 
And love comes in at the eye; 
That’s all we shall know for truth 
Before we grow old and die. 
I lift the glass to my mouth, 
I look at you, and I sigh.

-- William Butler Yeats
"Whatever she does, she does charmingly, and all of her actions are gracious. Her gentleness is so attractive, her kindness so engaging, her modesty so adorable . . . Oh! Elise, I wish you had seen her!"
-- Moliere, The Miser

Friday, November 18, 2016


Praise the Lord, ye servants. O praise the Name of the Lord.
Blessed be the Name of the Lord, from this time forth, for evermore.
The Lord's Name is to be praised,
from the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same.
The Lord is high above all nations, and His Glory above the heavens.
Who is like unto the Lord our God, that hath His dwelling so high, 
and yet humbleth Himself to behold the things that are in heaven and earth!
He taketh up the simple out of the dust, and lifteth the poor out of the mire;
that he may set him with the princes, even with the princes of his people.
He maketh the barren woman to keep house,
and to be a joyful mother of children.
-- Psalm 113


Monday, November 14, 2016

Violin Song #1

Hope Deferred

Summer is come again. The sun is bright,
And the soft wind is breathing. Airy joy
Is sparkling in thine eyes, and in their light
My soul is shining. Come; our day's employ
Shall be to revel in unlikely things,
In gayest hopes, fondest imaginings,
And make-believes of bliss. Come, we will talk
Of waning moons, low winds, and a dim sea,
Till this fair summer, deepening as we walk,
Has grown a paradise for you and me.

But ah, those leaves!--it was not summer's mouth
Breathed such a gold upon them. And look there--
That beech how red! See, through its boughs half-bare,
How low the sun lies in the mid-day south!--
'Tis but a wandering memory that hath shone
Back from the summer mourning to be gone.
See, see the dead leaves falling! Hear thy heart,
Which, changing ever as seasons come and go,
Takes in the changing world its mournful part,
Return a sigh, an echo sad and low
To the faint, half inaudible sound
With which the leaf goes whispering to the ground!
O love, the winter lieth at the door--
Behind the winter, age and something more.


-- George MacDonald, Violin Songs and Other Poems

Monday, November 7, 2016

"Presently the fairies began to bestow their gifts on the princess. The youngest ordained that she should be the most beautiful person in the world; the next, that she should have the temper of an angel; the third, that she should do everything with a wonderful grace; the fourth, that she should dance to perfection; the fifth, that she should sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play every kind of music with the utmost skill." -- Charles Perrault, The Sleeping Beauty

"There is no wall so high it shuts out slander."

-- Moliere