On Death And Dying
I'm surprised Dubhlinn hasn't posted this one...
MEMORY OF MY FATHER
by Patrick Kavanagh
Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner Street
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me:
"I was once your father."
MEMORY OF MY FATHER
by Patrick Kavanagh
Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner Street
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me:
"I was once your father."
Giles: "We few, we happy few."
Spike: "We band of buggered."
Spike: "We band of buggered."
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Charlene
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Song
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress-tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming throughout the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830-1894
When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress-tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.
I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming throughout the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.
Christina Georgina Rossetti 1830-1894
Charlene
-
Lorenzo
- Posts: 5726
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- Location: Oregon, USA
Chief Seattle's Thoughts 1854
The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony, and man --- all belong to the same family.
We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.
I do not know. Our ways are different than your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of the insect's wings. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine.
The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.
I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be made more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.
What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.
You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children that we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.
This we know; the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected.
Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We shall see. One thing we know which the white man may one day discover; our God is the same God.
You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. The earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.
But in your perishing you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man.
That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.
Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone.
The end of living and the beginning of survival.
The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters; the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony, and man --- all belong to the same family.
We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's grave behind, and he does not care. He kidnaps the earth from his children, and he does not care. His father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the earth, and his brother, the sky, as things to be bought, plundered, sold like sheep or bright beads. His appetite will devour the earth and leave behind only a desert.
I do not know. Our ways are different than your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring or the rustle of the insect's wings. The clatter only seems to insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lonely cry of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frogs around the pond at night? I am a red man and do not understand. The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of a pond and the smell of the wind itself, cleaned by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine.
The air is precious to the red man for all things share the same breath, the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days he is numb to the stench. But if we sell you our land, you must remember that the air is precious to us, that the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
The wind that gave our grandfather his first breath also receives his last sigh. And if we sell you our land, you must keep it apart and sacred as a place where even the white man can go to taste the wind that is sweetened by the meadow's flowers.
I am a savage and do not understand any other way. I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be made more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive.
What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.
You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of our grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children that we have taught our children that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.
This we know; the earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected.
Even the white man, whose God walks and talks with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We shall see. One thing we know which the white man may one day discover; our God is the same God.
You may think now that you own Him as you wish to own our land; but you cannot. He is the God of man, and His compassion is equal for the red man and the white. The earth is precious to Him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its creator. The whites too shall pass; perhaps sooner than all other tribes. Contaminate your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.
But in your perishing you will shine brightly fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man.
That destiny is a mystery to us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are all slaughtered, the wild horses are tamed, the secret corners of the forest heavy with the scent of many men and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking wires.
Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone.
The end of living and the beginning of survival.
-
Bloomfield
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When I am laid in earth, may my wrongs create
No trouble in thy breast;
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Dido's Lament, from: Dido and Aeneas by Henry Purcell. Written in 1681 for a girls' school performance. If you do not know this aria, treat yourself and listen to it sometime; it is one of the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful, mournful piece.
Aeneas, the hero and son of the Trojan King, after having borne his dying father and young son from the burning ruins of Troy, wanders aimlessly in the Mediterranean and lands in Carthage, where Dido, the Cartheginian queen falls in love with him and woos him. Aeneas loves Dido and promises to stay and settle in Carthage. The Gods, however, remind Aeneas of his destiny (to found Rome), and tell him to be on his way. Aeneas tells Dido that he must leave, breaking her heart. Seeing her distress, Aeneas changes his mind and offers to stay. Dido refuses, saying "For 'tis enough, whate'er you now decree,/That you had once a thought of leaving me." Aeneas sets off. Overcome by grief, Dido dies: remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
No trouble in thy breast;
Remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
Dido's Lament, from: Dido and Aeneas by Henry Purcell. Written in 1681 for a girls' school performance. If you do not know this aria, treat yourself and listen to it sometime; it is one of the most gut-wrenchingly beautiful, mournful piece.
Aeneas, the hero and son of the Trojan King, after having borne his dying father and young son from the burning ruins of Troy, wanders aimlessly in the Mediterranean and lands in Carthage, where Dido, the Cartheginian queen falls in love with him and woos him. Aeneas loves Dido and promises to stay and settle in Carthage. The Gods, however, remind Aeneas of his destiny (to found Rome), and tell him to be on his way. Aeneas tells Dido that he must leave, breaking her heart. Seeing her distress, Aeneas changes his mind and offers to stay. Dido refuses, saying "For 'tis enough, whate'er you now decree,/That you had once a thought of leaving me." Aeneas sets off. Overcome by grief, Dido dies: remember me, but ah! forget my fate.
/Bloomfield
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Wombat
- Posts: 7105
- Joined: Mon Sep 23, 2002 6:00 pm
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- Location: Probably Evanston, possibly Wollongong
THIS ae nighte, this ae nighte,
—Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.
When thou from hence away art past,
—Every nighte and alle,
To Whinny-muir thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,
—Every nighte and alle,
Sit thee down and put them on;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane
—Every nighte and alle,
The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.
From Whinny-muir when thou may'st pass,
—Every nighte and alle,
To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass,
—Every nighte and alle,
To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest meat or drink,
—Every nighte and alle,
The fire sall never make thee shrink;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane,
—Every nighte and alle,
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
—Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.
Anon.
—Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.
When thou from hence away art past,
—Every nighte and alle,
To Whinny-muir thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,
—Every nighte and alle,
Sit thee down and put them on;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane
—Every nighte and alle,
The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.
From Whinny-muir when thou may'st pass,
—Every nighte and alle,
To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass,
—Every nighte and alle,
To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest meat or drink,
—Every nighte and alle,
The fire sall never make thee shrink;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane,
—Every nighte and alle,
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
—Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.
Anon.
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Flyingcursor
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- Location: Portsmouth, VA1, "the States"
Banks of the Ohio
I asked my love to take a walk,
Just a little way's with me.
An' as we walked,
Then we would talk
All about our wedding day.
CHORUS:
"Darlin', say that you'll be mine;
In our home we'll happy be,
Down beside where the waters flow,
On the banks of the Ohio."
I took her by her pretty white hand,
I led her down the banks of sand,
I plunged her in
Where she would drown,
An' watched her as she floated down.
CHORUS:
"Darlin', say that you'll be mine;
In our home we'll happy be,
Down beside where the waters flow,
On the banks of the Ohio."
Returnin' home between twelve and one,
Thinkin', Lord, what a deed I've done;
I'd killed the girl
I love, you see,
Because she would not marry me.
The very next day, at half past four,
The sheriff walked right to my door;
He says, "Young man,
Don't try to run.
You'll pay for this awful crime you've don."
CHORUS:
"Darlin', say that you'll be mine;
In our home we'll happy be,
Down beside where the waters flow,
On the banks of the Ohio."
I asked my love to take a walk,
Just a little way's with me.
An' as we walked,
Then we would talk
All about our wedding day.
CHORUS:
"Darlin', say that you'll be mine;
In our home we'll happy be,
Down beside where the waters flow,
On the banks of the Ohio."
I took her by her pretty white hand,
I led her down the banks of sand,
I plunged her in
Where she would drown,
An' watched her as she floated down.
CHORUS:
"Darlin', say that you'll be mine;
In our home we'll happy be,
Down beside where the waters flow,
On the banks of the Ohio."
Returnin' home between twelve and one,
Thinkin', Lord, what a deed I've done;
I'd killed the girl
I love, you see,
Because she would not marry me.
The very next day, at half past four,
The sheriff walked right to my door;
He says, "Young man,
Don't try to run.
You'll pay for this awful crime you've don."
CHORUS:
"Darlin', say that you'll be mine;
In our home we'll happy be,
Down beside where the waters flow,
On the banks of the Ohio."
I'm no longer trying a new posting paradigm
-
Flyingcursor
- Posts: 6573
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Little Girl And The Dreadful Snake
Our darling wandered far away while she was out at play
Lost in the woods she couldn't hear a sound
She was our darling girl the sweetest thing in all the world
We searched for her but she couldn't be found
I heard the screams of out little girl far away
Hurry Daddy there's and awful dreadful snake
I ran as fast as I could through the dark and dreary woods
But I reached our darling girl too late
Oh I began to cry I knew that soon she'd have to die
For the snake was warning me close by
I held her close to my face she said daddy kill that snake
It's getting dark tell mommy goodbye
To all parents I must say don't let your children stray away
They need your love to guide them along
Oh God I pray we'll see our darling girl some day
It seems we still can hear her voice around our home
Our darling wandered far away while she was out at play
Lost in the woods she couldn't hear a sound
She was our darling girl the sweetest thing in all the world
We searched for her but she couldn't be found
I heard the screams of out little girl far away
Hurry Daddy there's and awful dreadful snake
I ran as fast as I could through the dark and dreary woods
But I reached our darling girl too late
Oh I began to cry I knew that soon she'd have to die
For the snake was warning me close by
I held her close to my face she said daddy kill that snake
It's getting dark tell mommy goodbye
To all parents I must say don't let your children stray away
They need your love to guide them along
Oh God I pray we'll see our darling girl some day
It seems we still can hear her voice around our home
I'm no longer trying a new posting paradigm
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Flyingcursor
- Posts: 6573
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I Hear A Sweet Voice Calling
(note: When my first daughter was born I refused to listen to this song)
Our little girl taken sick one evening
As she walked home from school
And in her death bed soon bring her
It made us so sad and so blue
Then she called me close to her bedside
And whispered these words soft and low,
"Tell Mommy to come to me quickly,
I want to kiss you both then go"
I hear a sweet voice calling
Way up in heaven on high
God has made room for you daughter,
Oh Mommy and Daddy don't cry
Take care of my little brother
Tell him I've gone to rest
I know his little heart is broken
He's all that you have left
Then she closed her eyes forever
Never to see us no more
Until we meet our darling
On that bright and peaceful shore
(note: When my first daughter was born I refused to listen to this song)
Our little girl taken sick one evening
As she walked home from school
And in her death bed soon bring her
It made us so sad and so blue
Then she called me close to her bedside
And whispered these words soft and low,
"Tell Mommy to come to me quickly,
I want to kiss you both then go"
I hear a sweet voice calling
Way up in heaven on high
God has made room for you daughter,
Oh Mommy and Daddy don't cry
Take care of my little brother
Tell him I've gone to rest
I know his little heart is broken
He's all that you have left
Then she closed her eyes forever
Never to see us no more
Until we meet our darling
On that bright and peaceful shore
Last edited by Flyingcursor on Thu Aug 11, 2005 2:51 am, edited 1 time in total.
I'm no longer trying a new posting paradigm
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Flyingcursor
- Posts: 6573
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BURY ME NOT ON THE LONE PRAIRIE
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie these words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay on the bloody ground at the close of day
Oh bury me not and his voice failed there but we took no heed to his dying prayer
In a narrow grave just six by three we burried him there on the lone prairie
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie where the coyotes howl and the wind blows free
Where there's not a soul that will care for me oh bury me not on the lone prairie
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie these words came low and mournfully
From the pallid lips of a youth who lay on the bloody ground at the close of day
Oh bury me not and his voice failed there but we took no heed to his dying prayer
In a narrow grave just six by three we burried him there on the lone prairie
Oh bury me not on the lone prairie where the coyotes howl and the wind blows free
Where there's not a soul that will care for me oh bury me not on the lone prairie
I'm no longer trying a new posting paradigm
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Flyingcursor
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SAM HALL
(note: these aren't the exact lyrics sung by Tex Ritter)
Alright everyone of you can just kiss my hide ha ha ha ha
Well my name it is Sam Hall it is Sam Hall
Yes my name it is Sam Hall it is Sam Hall
My name it is Sam Hall and I hate you one and all
Yeah I hate you one and all till I blame ye eyes
I killed a man they said so they said killed a man they said so they said
Killed the man they said and I smashed in his head
And I left him a layin' dead well darn his hide
A swingin' I must go I must go a swingin' I must go I must go
Swingin' I must go while you critters down below
Yell up Sam I told you so well blast your hide
I saw Molly in the crowd in the crowd I seen Molly in the crowd in the crowd
There was Molly in the crowd and I hollered right out loud
Hey there Molly ain't you pride well damn your eyes
My name it is Sam Hall...
Then the sheriff he come too he come too
Yeah the sheriff he come too he come too
Oh the sheriff he come too he said well how are you
And I said well sheriff how are you darn your hide
Cause my name it is Sam Hall...
My name is Samuel Samuel Samuel my name is Samuel Samuel
Yeah my name is Samuel and I'll see you all in the hell
My name is Samuel blast your eye
My name is Samuel Hall blast your eyes blame ye hide darn ye eyes
(note: these aren't the exact lyrics sung by Tex Ritter)
Alright everyone of you can just kiss my hide ha ha ha ha
Well my name it is Sam Hall it is Sam Hall
Yes my name it is Sam Hall it is Sam Hall
My name it is Sam Hall and I hate you one and all
Yeah I hate you one and all till I blame ye eyes
I killed a man they said so they said killed a man they said so they said
Killed the man they said and I smashed in his head
And I left him a layin' dead well darn his hide
A swingin' I must go I must go a swingin' I must go I must go
Swingin' I must go while you critters down below
Yell up Sam I told you so well blast your hide
I saw Molly in the crowd in the crowd I seen Molly in the crowd in the crowd
There was Molly in the crowd and I hollered right out loud
Hey there Molly ain't you pride well damn your eyes
My name it is Sam Hall...
Then the sheriff he come too he come too
Yeah the sheriff he come too he come too
Oh the sheriff he come too he said well how are you
And I said well sheriff how are you darn your hide
Cause my name it is Sam Hall...
My name is Samuel Samuel Samuel my name is Samuel Samuel
Yeah my name is Samuel and I'll see you all in the hell
My name is Samuel blast your eye
My name is Samuel Hall blast your eyes blame ye hide darn ye eyes
I'm no longer trying a new posting paradigm
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buddhu
- Posts: 4092
- Joined: Tue Sep 23, 2003 3:14 pm
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- Location: In a ditch, just down the road from the pub
- Contact:
The first part of what Cran said describes me still :roll: My panic attacks started around age 18 and I'm now 45. They still happen, and I still fear death... although I'm not certain it's the fear that is the problem so much as the resentment of the inevitability of death. Life is SO great that I am angry that it can't go on and on... at least until I'm bored or have done all the things I'd love to do (and there are many!).Cranberry wrote:...
I used to fear death a whole lot, moreso the being dead part--when I had panic disorder really badly. It was a huge cancerous thought in my mind, my own demise and what it must be like to die and be dead. But accepting Jesus into my heart completely took that fear away. It probably sounds cliché, but it's totally true. I still think about death sometimes and read about it, but now it's in a totally different light.
Unfortunately, my rational mind will not allow me to try to accept a religion. I wish it would: believe me, I need the comforting hand to pat me on the head as much as the next person - maybe more than many. Sadly I can take no comfort from fairy tales (no offence intended, but that is what God and afterlife are to me).
Drink, on the other hand, does help.
And whether the blood be highland, lowland or no.
And whether the skin be black or white as the snow.
Of kith and of kin we are one, be it right, be it wrong.
As long as our hearts beat true to the lilt of a song.
And whether the skin be black or white as the snow.
Of kith and of kin we are one, be it right, be it wrong.
As long as our hearts beat true to the lilt of a song.
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TomB
- Posts: 2124
- Joined: Thu Sep 05, 2002 6:00 pm
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Dale: Thanks for posting, great quote. I had not thought of "The Bridge of San Luis Rey" in a long time. Maybe I'll have to read, again.DaleWisely wrote:"But soon we shall die and all memory ... will have left the earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning."
Thorton Wilder
The Bridge of San Luis Rey
All the Best, Tom
"Consult the Book of Armaments"
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Jack
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"Must not all things at the last be swallowed up in death?" ~Plato
(from http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Death)
Also, because I don't think anybody has yet mentioned this--On Death And Dying (the title of this thread) is also the title of a pivotal book on the subject of death, written by Swiss psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.
(from http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Death)
Also, because I don't think anybody has yet mentioned this--On Death And Dying (the title of this thread) is also the title of a pivotal book on the subject of death, written by Swiss psychiatrist Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.