MP3 of Christmas Bells Recited

Christmas Bells

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

[Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!]

And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said:
“For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!”

Below you can hear the carol sung. The singer is Renegade the Singing Baker. He wrote, “I sing when I bake. The reason is twofold: First, I like singing, but second and more importantly it keeps my mouth occupied so I’m not eating what I’m supposed to be baking… There are two traditional musical settings of the poem. I don’t like either of them, so when I sing it I set it to the tune of ‘I Saw Three Ships’ instead…”

I like the renegade singing baker’s idea… to sing while cooking to eat just a little less this holiday season. I think I’ll try that!

Whatever you celebrate, let’s all hope for peace on earth this holiday season and try to have more good-will to men and women around us!

Mama Lisa

MP3 recording of little tree

little tree
by e.e. cummings

little tree
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower

who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly

i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don’t be afraid

look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,

put up your little arms
and i’ll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won’t be a single place dark or unhappy

then when you’re quite dressed
you’ll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they’ll stare!
oh but you’ll be very proud

and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we’ll dance and sing
“Noel Noel”

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I took the photo above a couple of weeks ago on a walk near the beach. We found some pine cones on the walk and used them to decorate my window sill. There’s nothing like natural decorations for the holidays!

Music is the universal language of mankind. -Longfellow

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Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. -Berthold Auerbach

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Music is very much the same as air and water. It’s very much a natural element of the earth, you know when you hear birds, when you hear leaves crinkling on the ground, that’s music… it’s essential to the quality of life… The more you can listen to music, the better your quality of life will be.

-Christian McBride

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All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. -Whitman

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After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible, is music. -Aldous Huxley

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You must listen as if listening were your life. -Phillips Brooks

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Music is the sound of the circulation in nature’s veins. It is the flux which melts nature. Men dance to it, glasses ring and vibrate, and the fields seem to undulate. The healthy ear always hears it, nearer or more remote.

-Thoreau

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Music can noble hints impart,
Engender fury, kindle love;
With unsuspected eloquence can move
And manage all the man with secret art.

-Addison

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Music is not only a source of noble pleasure – everyone admits that, at any rate in theory – it is a form of intellectual and spiritual training with which we really cannot afford to dispense.

-Sir Henry Hadow

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Art is the Manifestation of the Spiritual by means of the Material. -Newlandsmith

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The history of a people are found in its songs. -George Jellinek

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Feel free to share your favorite musical quote in the comments below.

Mama Lisa

We took a walk today in Walt Whitman’s woods in West Hills, on Long Island, east of New York City.  I highly recommend taking an autumnal hike or stroll if you can.  Then you may feel the truth in Whitman’s line, "As to me I know of nothing else but miracles". There’s much beauty out there.  Here are some photos I took in Walt’s woods, followed by his poem "Miracles", and then recordings of two people reading the poem.

Miracles
by Walt Whitman

Why, who makes much of a miracle?
As to me I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at table at dinner with the rest,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,
Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;
These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles,
The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place.

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every foot of the interior swarms with the same.
To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim-the rocks-the motion of the waves-the ships with men in them,
What stranger miracles are there?

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MP3 of Miracles read by Jeannette Selig

MP3 of Miracles read by Mark J. Wilson

It’s interesting that the specific wording of the proverb, “Good fences make good neighbors” is fairly modern. It comes from Robert Frost’s poem Mending Wall from 1914. The poem centers around this concept and questions whether it’s true or not. Here’s the poem…

Mending Wall

Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, “Good fences make good neighbors”.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
“Why do they make good neighbors? Isn’t it
Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,
That wants it down.” I could say “Elves” to him,
But it’s not elves exactly, and I’d rather
He said it for himself. I see him there,
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbors.”

Listen to an MP3 of Mending Wall as read by Alan Davis-Drake for LibriVox

Listen to a different MP3 of Mending Wall as read by Teresa Montgomery for Librivox

The narrator of the poem is annoyed by his neighbor’s insistence that there has to be a fence between them. If only his neighbor would get beyond his father’s beliefs – originating in an old proverb – and reconsider his thinking.

What’s ironic is that Frost coined the new wording of a proverb: “Good fences make good neighbors”, while questioning the very wisdom behind it!

The poem below by Jane Taylor (1783-1824) is about a child telling how gently she will handle her little pussy-cat. The 1st two verses can be found in many collections of nursery rhymes. If you read the whole poem, you can see how it could be a good one to read to children with pets… talking about how to treat them nicely.

Little Pussy
By Jane Taylor

I love little Pussy,
Her coat is so warm;
And if I don’t hurt her
She’ll do me no harm.

So I’ll not pull her tail,
Nor drive her away,
But Pussy and I
Very gently will play.

She shall sit by my side,
And I’ll give her some food;
And she’ll love me because
I am gentle and good.

I’ll pat little Pussy,
And then she will purr,
And thus show her thanks
For my kindness to her.

I’ll not pinch her ears,
Nor tread on her paw,
Lest I should provoke her
To use her sharp claw.

I never will vex her,
Nor make her displeased,
For Puss doesn’t like
To be worried or teased.

MP3 of Little Pussy-cat

Listen to MP3 of My Shadow

My Shadow

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward, you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Enjoy!

Mama Lisa

OF speckled eggs the birdie sings
And nests among the trees;
The sailor sings of ropes and things
In ships upon the seas.

The children sing in far Japan,
The children sing in Spain;
The organ with the organ man
Is singing in the rain.

Early Spring

Quick through the gates of Fairyland
The South Wind forced his way.
‘Twas his to make the Earth forget
Her grief of yesterday.
“‘Tis mine,” cried he, “to bring her joy!”
And on his lightsome feet
In haste he slung the snowdrop bells,
Pushed past the Fairy sentinels,
And out with laughter sweet.

Clear flames of Crocus glimmered on
The shining way he went.
He whispered to the trees strange tales
Of wondrous sweet intent,
When, suddenly, his witching voice
With timbre rich and rare,
Rang through the woodlands till it cleft
Earth’s silent solitudes, and left
A Dream of Roses there!

Listen to MP3 of Early Spring as recited by Chip

You can read a whole book of Elizabeth Ward’s poetry called The Verse-Book Of A Homely Woman online at Project Gutenberg.