TheWanderingPaddy

Affirmation "I think its brave"

The Wind That Shakes the Barley" is an Irish ballad written by Robert Dwyer Joyce (1836–1883), a Limerick-born poet and professor of English literature. The song is written from the perspective of a doomed young Wexford rebel who is about to sacrifice his relationship with his loved one and plunge into the cauldron of violence associated with the 1798 rebellion in Ireland.[1] The references to barley in the song derive from the fact that the rebels often carried barley or oats in their pockets as provisions for when on the march. This gave rise to the post-rebellion phenomenon of barley growing and marking the "croppy-holes," mass unmarked graves into which slain rebels were thrown, symbolizing the regenerative nature of Irish resistance to British rule. As the barley will grow every year in the spring this is said to symbolize Irish resistance to British oppression and that Ireland will never yield and will always oppose British rule on the island.[2]

Robert Frost was an American poet who depicted realistic New England life through language and situations familiar to the common man. He won four Pulitzer Prizes for his work and spoke at John F. Kennedy's 1961 inauguration. - The Road Not Taken masquerades as a meditation about choice as the poet turns something as irrational as an “impulse” into a triumphant, intentional decision.

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.”

8 Daily Affirmations to help enjoy a more balanced life.

Poem that perfectly describes the grief process

Mary Elizabeth Clark Frye (1905-2004) was born in Dayton, Ohio, and was orphaned at the age of three. A housewife and florist who lived in Baltimore, Maryland, after marrying, she wrote this poem after learning that a friend's mother had died. Because Mary was not a recognized poet, and because this poem was never officially published or copyrighted, there has been much debate over its origins and many different people have tried to claim it as their own or have written variations on the original. Extensive research has generally, if not fully, confirmed Mary to be the author. Based on a CBC Radio interview with Mary Frye in 2000, the above is believed to be the correct, original version of the poem.

I sit beside the fire and think of all that I have seen, of meadow-flowers and butterflies in summers that have been; Of yellow leaves and gossamer in autumns that there were, with morning mist and silver sun and wind upon my hair. I sit beside the fire and think of how the world will be when winter comes without a spring that I shall ever see. For still there are so many things that I have never seen: in every wood in every spring there is a different green. I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago, and people who will see a world that I shall never know. But all the while I sit and think of times there were before, I listen for returning feet and voices at the door.