Introduction and Welcome

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Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot Paintings, John Philip Sousa - Prince Charming, Prince Charming, Robert Louis Stevenson - Evensong, John Milton - On His Deceased Wife

Two final paintings by Jean-Baptiste- Camille Corot.  Both have a red cap to make a child stand out in the landscape, the impressionistic trees, and the dots of white in the foreground indicating wildflowers.  Neither sky is as dramatic or beautiful as many of his we have looked at but both seem somehow similar to me in their chalky lines - almost like pastels. 

Souvenir of the Bresle at Incheville - Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot - www.jean-baptiste-camille-corot.org

Souvenir of Italy - Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot - www.jean-baptiste-camille-corot.org

Our final march by John Philip Sousa is Prince Charming, Prince Charming

This lovely poem by Robert Louis Stevenson is new to me.

Evensong

From Songs of Travel
 
The embers of the day are red
Beyond the murky hill.
The kitchen smokes: the bed
In the darkling house is spread:
The great sky darkens overhead,
And the great woods are shrill.
So far have I been led,
Lord, by Thy will:
So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still.

The breeze from the enbalmed land
Blows sudden toward the shore,
And claps my cottage door.
I hear the signal, Lord - I understand.
The night at Thy command
Comes.  I will eat and sleep and will not question more.



A sad but moving poem by John Milton today -

On His Deceased Wife

METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused Saint
   Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
   Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,
   Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint.
Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint,
   Purification in the old Law did save,
   And such, as yet once more I trust to have
   Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:
   Her face was vail'd, yet to my fancied sight,
   Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
   But O as to embrace me she enclin'd
   I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

















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