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...

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Day Shall Come Again


Winter holds us fast in his grasp.  2011 breathes its last.

2012 is upon us.  A new year, rising from the ashes of the old.  I have little doubt that it will be only a little less apocalyptic than the Maya foretold.  But we shall see.  I make no predictions tonight, other than this:  whatever darkness lies ahead, there will be another dawn.  It may not be sunny to some, but dawn it will be.

I vow to see it. 

"Last of all Hurin stood alone.  Then he cast aside his shield, and wielded an axe two-handed; and it is sung that the axe smoked in the black blood of the troll-guard of Gothmog until it withered, and each time that he slew Hurin cried:  'Aure entuluva!  Day shall come again!'  Seventy times he uttered that cry..."  -- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, Chapter 20:  "Of the Fifth Battle:  Nirnaeth Arnoediad"

Wassail, friends, and Happy New Year.
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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"