July 30, 2011

THE WOODSMAN

The old axe rang true
with each solid thud.
It neatly sank through
the blocks of thick wood.

The woodsman stood up,
then slowly bent down.
His arms made a cup
and gathered it 'round.

He loaded his cart
and went on his way
with a weight in his heart
that he had to obey. 
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his gods?

- The Lays of Ancient Rome

✤ ✤ ✤ ✤ ✤

I hold it true, whate'er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

- Lord Alfred Tennyson, In Memoriam