My Days Among The Dead

My days among the Dead are passed;
Around me I behold,
Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old:
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.
With them I take delight in weal,
And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedewed
With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
I live in long-past years,
Their virtues love, their faults condemn,
Partake their hopes and fears;
And from their lessons seek and find
Instruction with an humble mind.
My hopes are with the Dead; anon
My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
Through all Futurity;
Yet leaving here a name, I trust,
That will not perish in the dust.
Robert Southey

Branch Lines #1, 2 & 3

From Evercreech to Highbridge:


Highbridge:


From Highbridge to Burnham on Sea:

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
Jenny Joseph

When You Are Old

Lightning Strikes

Cobra Towers, Kuwait

Busy Days

So many fishes in my mind.
Which net to cast, which reel to wind?
Wade through the maze of tangled lines,
observing all “No Fishing” signs.
(Polluted waters, fathoms deep –
Leave those to my dreaming sleep).
Bait the hook with Light and Knowledge,
Ten Zillion Pounds – The Angling College.
(A hefty price you must agree,
But nowadays there’s nothing free).
Think and nibble, sip and think
which line to pull, which wine to drink.
Stroll lightly on the riverbank
(disguise with smiles how much you drank).
With stride or pose affect an air
of someone who’s without a care.
Don’t ever let those fishes know
you’re on the prowl or round they’ll go
in circles, playing fast and loose
And then you know what’s cooked – your goose!

The Lake Isle Of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

In the video below, Yeats himself explains how the poem came into being; his own 'blue remembered hills'. He then recites it in the declamatory style of the day: