Wassail, traveler, and welcome to The Gable Grey -- a place of retreat, of renewal, and of resistance: a tree-shaded refuge in Dark Times. Now pass the threshold, and rest from journeys! For a cold wind is blowing; and here, if you wish, you may hear tidings of the world without...
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
And now, a word from Marcus
"...see that you keep a cheerful demeanour, and retain your independence of outside help and the peace which others can give. Your duty is to stand straight -- not be held straight."
Whiles carried o'er the iron road, We hurry by some fair abode; The garden bright amidst the hay, The yellow wain upon the way, The dining men, the wind that sweeps Light locks from off the sun-sweet heaps -- The gable grey, the hoary roof, Here now -- and now so far aloof. How sorely then we long to stay And midst its sweetness wear the day, And 'neath its changing shadows sit, And feel ourselves a part of it. Such rest, such stay, I strove to win With these same leaves that lie herein.
-- William Morris, from "The Roots of the Mountains"