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Centenary Cemetery

11 Nov Poppies for Remembrance Day

Centenary Cemetery
mind not the weeper or the prayer,
all those who have the eyes to see,

The moon gives you light,
  And the bugles and drums, the night

To the Judge of Right and Wrong
Our purpose and our power belong,

with uncomprehending eyes
laid down immediate and wise;

Where now the Mother, comfort me?
Where Art Thou Father, can't you see?

Gather round the Centenary Cemetery over there
Old and young with hymn and prayer
Poppies for Remembrance Day

Poppy

Blow out, you bugles, over lads Dead!
These laid the world away; poured out the red
     What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
        Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

But yesterday amid glory and the prize,
          One strove to quiet the other's cries,

rules consider wise,
See whence the tear-filled eyes

O Best beloved can you see battle-corpses, myriads of them,
          And the white skeletons of young men, who saw them?

The banners play, the bugles call,
The air is blue and prodigal.

To death, because they never lived: but I
Have lived indeed, and so—(yet one more kiss)—can die!

No funerary for them; no prayers nor bells,
Just shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

with staring sightless eyes,
Hear around the many sighs

We see and hold the good—
For Freedom’s brotherhood.

Gather round the Centenary Cemetery over there
Citizen and Child with hymn and prayer

A steady rain, dark and thick
Now feel the stir of despair quick

My comrade’s eyes
holy glimmers of goodbyes.

So now the poppy in fields doth bloom’
For the day all fill’d with gloom,

Clearing your minds of all estranging blindness
Speak now of Freedom, Honour and Lovingkindness.

Upon sightless staring eyes
soft short broken sighs,

Only his collar with his honourable mark
Mankind’s best hope? Laid out this night in solitary dark

While man has power to perish and be free—
Men perished for their dream of Liberty

Here sit the haggard men that speak no word,
No voice of fellowship or strife is heard

The British War Medal World War I.

Medal.

The body now denies
To Sleep return, little eyes

Nary it shines in lurid light,
Tales of  terrors, and the  blight,

Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;
And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.

They shall feel earth enwrapt in silence deep;
Men pass the grave, and say, “‘Twere well to sleep,

The peace of death.
The lifeless breath

Before our eyes
Hear still the cries

upon earth’s peaceful breast
Each laid him down to rest,

Gather round the Centenary Cemetery over there
Generations ever after with hymn and prayer

The day is past and the battle doth cease;
And hearts rest, eventide brings peace

Now speak of the peace that comes after strife,
The calm that follows the battle-filled life —

Now come the prayers and the bell
To honour them as they fell

Resound in peace and glory long
Sing out no more the bugle song

To ancestors you must see
Will you ever remember me?

So here I pray thee lay me not
to Rest in no memory and Die for naught.

Where’s that poppy on your collar?
Stand up now for peace, shout and holler

Poppies for Remembrance Day

Poppies

Genealogy Hints and Tips: During the Centennial years following World War I (1914-1918), Search for the ancestor fallen. The tragedy has come to light, and diaries, battalions, battles, records, medals, reports, images, are coming online. From Vimy in the Classroom, Saskatchewan Virtual War Memorial, Library and Archives images online at Fickr. The internet abounds remembering, honouring and paying tribute to those who fell in the Great War.  Have you, yourself, come to know your ancestor of the Great War?

Read more:

 In Flanders Fields and Other Poems With an Essay in Character, by Sir Andrew Macphail Author: John McCrae

Drum Taps Author: Walt Whitman

A Treasury of War Poetry British and American Poems of the World War 1914-1917
Auhor: Edited, with Introduction and Notes, by George Herbert Clarke

1914 and other poems. Author Rupert Brooke

Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War Author: Herman Melville

Dramatic Romances Author: Robert Browning

Poems Author: Wilfred Owen

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The Aged Pilot Man

9 Dec

O, need I tell that passion's name?

The Aged Pilot Man

On the river channel, it was,
All on a summer’s afternoon,
I sailed forth with my parents
Far away to Saskatoon.

From out the clouds at noon that day
There came a dreadful storm,
That piled the billows high about,
And filled us with alarm.

A man came rushing from a house,
Saying, “Snub up your boat I pray,
Snub up your boat, snub up, alas,
Snub up while yet you may.”

Our captain cast one glance astern,
Then forward glanced he,
And said, “My wife and little ones
I never more shall see.”

Said Dollinger the pilot man,
In noble words, but few,—
“Fear not, but lean on Dollinger,
And he will fetch you through.”

The boat drove on, the frightened mules
Tore through the rain and wind,
And bravely still, in danger’s post,
The whip-boy strode behind.

“Come ‘board, come ‘board,” the captain cried,
“Nor tempt so wild a storm;”
But still the raging mules advanced,
And still the boy strode on.

Then said the captain to us all,
“Alas, ’tis plain to me,
The greater danger is not there,
But here upon the sea.

So let us strive, while life remains,
To save all souls on board,
And then if die at last we must,
Let . . . . I cannot speak the word!”

Said Dollinger the pilot man,
Tow’ring above the crew,
“Fear not, but trust in Dollinger,
And he will fetch you through.”

“Low bridge! low bridge!” all heads went down,
The laboring bark sped on;
A mill we passed, we passed church,
Hamlets, and fields of corn;
And all the world came out to see,
And chased along the shore
Crying, “Alas, alas, the sheeted rain,
The wind, the tempest’s roar!
Alas, the gallant ship and crew,
Can nothing help them more?”

And from our deck sad eyes looked out
Across the stormy scene:
The tossing wake of billows aft,
The bending forests green,
The chickens sheltered under carts
In lee of barn the cows,
The skurrying swine with straw in mouth,
The wild spray from our bows!

“She balances!
She wavers!
Now let her go about!
If she misses stays and broaches to,
We’re all”—then with a shout,]
“Huray! huray!
Avast! belay!
Take in more sail!
Lord, what a gale!
Ho, boy, haul taut on the hind mule’s tail!”
“Ho! lighten ship! ho! man the pump!
Ho, hostler, heave the lead!

“A quarter-three!—’tis shoaling fast!
Three feet large!—t-h-r-e-e feet!—
Three feet scant!” I cried in fright
“Oh, is there no retreat?”

Said Dollinger, the pilot man,
As on the vessel flew,
“Fear not, but trust in Dollinger,
And he will fetch you through.”

A panic struck the bravest hearts,
The boldest cheek turned pale;
For plain to all, this shoaling said
A leak had burst the ditch’s bed!
And, straight as bolt from crossbow sped,
Our ship swept on, with shoaling lead,
Before the fearful gale!

“Sever the tow-line! Cripple the mules!”
Too late! There comes a shock!
Another length, and the fated craft
Would have swum in the saving lock!

Then gathered together the shipwrecked crew
And took one last embrace,
While sorrowful tears from despairing eyes
Ran down each hopeless face;
And some did think of their little ones
Whom they never more might see,
And others of waiting wives at home,
And mothers that grieved would be.

But of all the children of misery there
On that poor sinking frame,
But one spake words of hope and faith,
And I worshipped as they came:
Said Dollinger the pilot man,—
(O brave heart, strong and true!)—
“Fear not, but trust in Dollinger,
For he will fetch you through.”

Lo! scarce the words have passed his lips
The dauntless prophet say’th,
When every soul about him seeth
A wonder crown his faith!

And count ye all, both great and small,
As numbered with the dead:
For mariner for forty year,
On Erie, boy and man,
I never yet saw such a storm,
Or one’t with it began!”

So overboard a keg of nails
And anvils three we threw,
Likewise four bales of gunny-sacks,
Two hundred pounds of glue,
Two sacks of corn, four ditto wheat,
A box of books, a cow,
A violin, Lord Byron’s works,
A rip-saw and a sow.

A curve! a curve! the dangers grow!
“Labbord!—stabbord!—s-t-e-a-d-y!—so!—
Hard-a-port, Dol!—hellum-a-lee!
Haw the head mule!—the aft one gee!
Luff!—bring her to the wind!”

For straight a farmer brought a plank,—
(Mysteriously inspired)—
And laying it unto the ship,
In silent awe retired.

Then every sufferer stood amazed
That pilot man before;
A moment stood. Then wondering turned,
And speechless walked ashore.
Adapted from The Aged Pilot a poem by Mark Twain

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For more information:


Steamships All Aboard! on the Saskatchewan

Navigation of the Saskatchewan. Steamers


Saskatchewan Gen Web ~ Transportation


Ballad of the Saskatchewan ~ A Poem


The Aged Pilot Man ~ A Poem


Bibliography


Table of Steamships upon the Saskatchewan


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Follow me on Word Press, Blogger, Facebook, Flickr, Twitter, Tumblr, Live Journal, Sask Gen Web Ancestry.com and Flickriver




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Aum_Kleem - View my most interesting photos on Flickriver




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Buy my work


Autumn in the Misty Morn by Julia Adamson (AumKleem)) on 500px.com
Autumn in the Misty Morn by Julia Adamson



A Ballad of the Saskatchewan

9 Dec

O, need I tell that passion's name?

A Ballad of the Saskatchewan

 

Now again ’tis lovely May, by the riverside I stray,
And the song birds sing around and overhead,
And I watch the river flow as I did long years ago
When the North West in her glory sailed ahead.

As I watch the river flow, I think on the long ago
When each pioneer granted a homestead begun
In the land so bright and new, in the land so fair to view
In the valley of the famous River Saskatchewan.

Then the North West in her prime, on the river made good time
And her passengers admired her as she sped
Through the valley bright and new, through the valley fair to view
On the swift waters of the Saskatchewan water bed.

Fancy hears the tinkle ting of her bells as they would ring
For to start or stop or back or come ahead,
And the sounding of her gong, as they steamed her extra strong
Through the Saskatchewan river water bed.

And now it comes to mind, how each woodpile they would find
And load up enough to keep her furnace fed
As she sailed from side to side down or up the ruby tide
Landing pioneers along the Saskatchewan water bed.

Men of fame and high renown, on the North West then sailed down
To find out its great resources they were led
That they might see and write, of the fertile vale so bright,
Lovely valley, flowery valley, Saskatchewan’s water bed.

Now to you I will relate, Peter McArthur’s ecstatic state
Honeymoon suites, Grand piano, nothing but the best
Pioneer Iron Works of Wisconsin, double-level engines placed within,
Nothing repressed, the envy of the west.

But the North West is no more, for upon Edmonton’s shore
She was wrecked upon Low Level Bridge, and never more can come ahead.
But some relics of her still lie beneath the waves a’murmurin’ still
In the willows by the Saskatchewan River bed.

She will never sail again, for the bridge did cut her in twain,
And no more upon her decks can old friends have fun
As they danced in days of yore, as she sailed from shore to shore,
Landing pioneers along the shores of the Saskatchewan.

I recall to mind today, some old friends who went away,
Pioneers who were to finish what they had begun,
Friends who came here to reside, when the North West in her pride
Towed her barges filled with grain upon Saskatchewan

Friends are leaving one by one, pioneers have gone,
Some have gone to other lands and some are done,
Some of them are laid to rest, in the East, North, South and West,
And some others rest beside the peaceful Saskatchewan.

Then, good-bye old friends, good-bye, for the dear old days we sigh,
And live o’er again some youthful years long gone,
And we’ll often call to mind, happy days we left behind
In the valley of the famous River Saskatchewan.

As I muse and watch the stream, here and there a fish doth gleam,
And the song birds overhead dig and sing ‘neath the springtime sun,
And I watch the river flow, as I did long years ago,
When the North West in her glory sailed the Saskatchewan.

Adapted from A Ballad of the Red by Patrick H. Donohue, an old riverman

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For more information:

Steamships All Aboard! on the Saskatchewan

Navigation of the Saskatchewan. Steamers

Saskatchewan Gen Web ~ Transportation

Ballad of the Saskatchewan ~ A Poem

The Aged Pilot Man ~ A Poem

Bibliography

Table of Steamships upon the Saskatchewan

________________________________________________________________________________________

Follow me on Word Press, Blogger, Facebook, Flickr, Twitter, Tumblr, Live Journal, Sask Gen Web Ancestry.com and Flickriver

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Aum_Kleem - View my most interesting photos on Flickriver

________________________________________________________________________________

Buy my work

Hope Rekindled by Julia Adamson (AumKleem)) on 500px.com
Hope Rekindled by Julia Adamson

 

Paeonia Blessings

4 Jan

Paeonia Blessings

Hearts coming together, nay joining together with dreams of future bliss, prosperity and happiness.

 

The tender embrace of love and rapture. Harmony of souls. Peaceful optimism. Caress and kiss. Well wishes and benevolence. Flowers and smiles, tears of bliss what else is present? In the melding of heart and soul shall there be the sound of anything knocking?

 

The harmony of love presses forward in time. Rejoicing over the holiday season, celebrating at Valentine’s Day, and culminating in spring wedding. Two becoming as one. Love emerging as a flower opening on a summer’s day. Hearts entwined with Love. The Love of body, mind and soul.

 

Who can celebrate such true Love? Unconditional Love that envelops the consciousness. Melting into true Love which captivates the senses. Merging the soul with perfect peace and all-encompassing Love. Forgoing all direction, not doing but being, resting and surrendering to Love in all its glory and splendour.

 

What questions arise? How shall the music of True Love be heard? The harmony of Love spreads far and wide. The melody of Love, an expression of the freedom and rapture of the souls of the hearts.

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What is the Sparrow’s Song?

How to locate birth, marriage and death certificates in Saskatchewan, Canada

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All rights reserved. Copyright © Aum Kleem All my images are protected under international authors copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without my written explicit permission.
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Word Press, Blogger, Facebook, Flickr, Twitter, Tumblr, Live Journal, Sask Gen Web Ancestry.com and Flickriver

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Gallery

Oh Holy Night!

9 Dec

O' Holy Night nativity scene

Oh holy night! by Jackie Evanochko

Oh holy night!
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth!
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear’d and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh night when Christ was born
Oh night divine
Oh night divine

Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming
Here come the wise men from Orient land
The King of Kings lay thus in lowly manger

In all our trials born to be our friend

Truly He taught us to love one another
His law is love and His gospel is peace
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name

Thanks very kindly for your visits. Much appreciated!…. Peace and love be with you. ________________________________________________________________________________________

All rights reserved. Copyright © Aum Kleem All my images are protected under international authors copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without my written explicit permission.
________________________________________________________________________________________

_____________
Follow me on Word Press, Blogger, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Live Journal, and Flickriver

_________________
Aum_Kleem - View my most interesting photos on Flickriver

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