Seligor's Castle, fun for all the children of the world. Gold n Silver
From the Pen of Christina Rossetti : GOLDEN-WINGED - SILVER-WINGED Birds of Paradise
Golden-winged, silver-winged, Winged with flashing flame, Such a flight of birds I saw, Birds without a name : Singing songs in their own tongue - Song of songs - they came.
One to each other calling Each answering each, One to another calling In their proper speech : High above my head they wheeled, Far out of reach.
On wings of flame they went and came With a cadenced clang : Their silver wings tinkled, Their golden wings rang ; The wind it whistled throug their wings Where in heaven they sang.
They flashed and they darted Awhile before mine eyes, Mounting, mounting, mounting still, In haste to scale the skies, Birds without a nest on earth, Birds of Paradise.
Where the moon riseth not Nor sun seeks the west, There to sing their glory Which they sing at rest, There to sing their love-song When they sing their best :-
Not in any garden That mortal foot hath trod, Not in any flowering tree That springs from earthly sod, But in the garden where they dwell, The Paradise of God.
COULD THESE BE CALLED SUPERSTITIONS? OR MAYBE SOME GOLDEN MOMENTS! HEHE
Cut your nails on Monday, cut them for good news. Cut them on Tuesday, for a nice pair of new shoes. Cut them on Wednesday, cut them for good health. Cut them off on Thursday, you might have some wealth. Cut them off on Friday, a time that's full of woe. Cut them on Saturday, a journey you will go, Cut them on the Sabbath, the Devil you'll awake And for the week that follows the evil one you'll take.
MARRY ON MONDAY, AND YOU'LL MARRY FOR WEALTH MARRY ON A TUESDAY, IS TO MARRY FOR HEALTH MARRY ON A WEDNESDAY, THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF ALL,
MARRY ON THURSDAY, MUCH STRIFE WILL YOU BEAR. MARRY ON FRIDAY, MUCH LOSSES TO SHARE. MARRY ON A SATURDAY, YOU'LL HAVE NO LUCK AT ALL
This little story comes from http://www.magickeys.com/books/index.html do take time out to see all the other wonderful things this site can interest you in. A Wonderful find. Share
Follow the littlest knight as he battles to save the kingdom from the terrible dragon and win the hand of the princess.
A Children's Book
THE LITTLEST KNIGHT
Written and Illustrated by Carol Moore
Once upon a time long ago, even before
the days of King Arthur, there lived a blacksmith only three feet tall.
He was so short that he needed a stool to stand on to shoe the great
steeds of the knights. This bothered him not a bit because although he
was small he was very brave. In fact, in his heart he secretly longed
to become a knight and win the hand of the Princess.
The Princess was the King and Queen's only child and
it should come as no surprise that the little blacksmith loved her very
much for she was both kind and beautiful. She was even smaller than he,
and had dancing eyes and long silken hair which she wore in a coiled
braid. But, alas, the little blacksmith could admire the Princess only
from afar because she was, after all, a princess and he but a lowly
blacksmith--not even that tall.
One day a terrible dragon came to the
kingdom. Breathing fire on anyone who crossed its path, it trampled
houses and burned fields. Many knights battled the dragon but their
could not cut its thick scales. Each night it flew home to its
cave in the mountains surrounded by a deep ravine.
The dragon was enchanted and protected by a magic spell. It said,
He who would break my spell,
Must carry a thousand swords,
And do it well.
Then cross a bridge which isn't there,
If he wants to reach my lair.
And last, not least, my defeat
Will be an empty cup filled.
Many knights went to battle and many knights were
hurt as the dragon moved closer and closer to the castle. The King
declared whosoever killed the dragon would be granted half his kingdom.
Now knights came from across the sea. They were the most fierce, the
bravest and the biggest knights anyone had ever seen. A thousand of them gathered to attack the dragon.
But with his great wings the dragon
took no time in knocking 50 knights from their horses and breathing
fire on the rest. He said,
You must think I'm here to fiddle,
1,000 men--that's not the riddle.
One man alone, only one man,
With a thousand swords,
That's the plan.
In desperation the King proclaimed whosoever solved the riddles and killed the dragon would be granted their heart's desire.
Now the merchants got busy. Suddenly there were
swords everywhere: fat swords, skinny swords, sharp swords, dull
swords, fancy swords, but mostly tiny swords so that one man might
carry many of them. But a tiny sword is more like a dagger and most
knights were too proud to carry a sackful of daggers.
There was also a need for building materials to make
the bridge, all kinds and shapes of wood and rock and rope and twine.
Of course, with all this material they needed carts to carry it and
animals to pull it so there was a run on wagons and horses and donkeys
Lastly, the chinaware merchants had a field day. They
sold crystal goblets, wooden goblets, big cups, little cups, coffee
cups, fat cups, skinny cups. To fill these cups the wine merchants and
the milkmaids sold red wine, white wine, sparkling wine, cow's milk,
goat's milk and all types of fruit juice.
As a matter of fact, the kingdom had never known such
commercial success. Nothing was left of anything resembling a sword or
building material, or a wagon to hold it, or an animal to pull it, and
there was not a drop of liquid left in all the kingdom but ordinary
What was left were sacks and sacks and sacks
of money piled everywhere. And did this do any good? No. The knights
for all their effort and all their supplies couldn't defeat the dragon
and now the countryside was strewn with debris and the kingdom was a
Only the little blacksmith's heart was full of hope
for he finally had a chance to win the hand of the Princess. He
fashioned a suit of armor and a sword out of old tin cups and scrap
metal, mounted his pony and rode to court. Bowing before the King, he
said, "I wish to be knighted so that I may rid your kingdom of this
There was a moment of silence, then everyone but the
Princess began to laugh. In fact, they laughed and they laughed, which
made the little blacksmith's ears turn red. The King said, "You are no
match for this dragon. It takes might to fight. You are simply too
The little blacksmith squared his shoulders. "I may be slight but I can fight."
The Princess was impressed. It was clear to her he
was brave and good. "Father, for my sake, knight him this day. You
promised 'whosoever should slay the dragon,' and surely he deserves a
The King couldn't refuse his only
daughter. He rose from his throne and knighted the blacksmith. Then,
for luck, the Princess unwound her long braid, pulled out a single hair
and handed it to the littlest knight. He placed it in a pocket over his
heart. "May you have good fortune, my brave knight," she said.
So the littlest knight set out on his pony to find
the dragon. He met many tired and injured knights and one helpful
fellow told him, "Go back. One man can't carry 1,000 swords, nor can
you cross a bridge which isn't there, and if you fill an empty cup it
won't be empty any more. It is all a trick." He thought the littlest
knight was the biggest fool.
The littlest knight had been traveling half a day
when he came upon an object in the road beneath a tree. It was a
beehive. Being a kind soul he picked it up to put it back in the tree.
Suddenly he heard a tiny, buzzing voice.
We see you have kind intentions,
But please don't put us back.
Every knight who's seen us here,
Raised his sword and gave a whack.
Carry us elsewhere, we pray,
And we'll return the favour one day.
"OK," said the littlest knight and
carefully tied the beehive to his saddle.It was shortly after that he
found the dragon or rather it found him. It landed nearby to look him
over, and said,
Pfft, why you're nothing but a pea,
Who doesn't reach my knee
Go home and grow some more.
Fighting you would be a bore.
littlest knight charged anyway striking a blow with his sword."Ouch,"
said the dragon. The littlest knight charged and struck him again. The
You've gone too far this time.
You hit me on my behind.
I'll fry you 'till
What you look like most,
Is a piece of burnt up toast.
Suddenly there was a buzzing from the knapsack. A bee flew out and up to the littlest knight's ear.
We have a way to repay you,
Throw our beehive and we'll save you.
So the littlest knight grabbed the beehive, throwing
it at the dragon's head. Immediately a thousand bees flew out with a
thousand stingers. With their tiny swords they stung the dragon again
and again. The dragon's eyes began to swell and he could hardly see.
With a bellow of pain and anger he leaped into the air and flew off to
his cave in the mountains.
The littlest knight followed on his
pony. When he reached the dragon's lair he saw that the cliffs of the
ravine were so far across that building a bridge would take a year. He
sat down to think about it, meanwhile pulling from his pocket the
Princess's single silken hair.
Again there was a buzzing from the knapsack and a bee flew out. It asked him what the matter was. When he told it, it said.
This is easy.
To cross a bridge which isn't there,
Could be a single human hair.
Tie the Princess's to my back
I'll fly it there and
Tie it near the dragon's lair
The bee did just that. The littlest knight couldn't
believe his good fortune until he was fully halfway across the ravine,
balancing like an acrobat. The Princess's hair seemed magical for it
stretched the whole distance and even with his weight did not break.
He made it across and entered the
cave. There he found the dragon in a far corner. It was in misery with
its eyes swollen shut and its forked tongue lying on the ground. It
hissed at his approach, for it could still smell him.
I warn you do not come in here.
I'll kill you if you come near.
It's foolhardy to be involved,
When there's still a riddle to be solved.
But the littlest knight wasn't afraid. With his kind
heart all he could feel now was pity. He wanted to help the beast, to
give it water to drink and cool its swollen eyes.
Returning outside he climbed down the cliff to the
stream below. At the bottom there was plenty of water but nothing with
which to carry it. Then he spied a chipped cup some knight had tossed
from above. Carefully picking it from the sand he filled it as best as
he could and climbed back up.
But when he got back to the dragon he discovered that
not only had the cup been chipped but it had a crack he had not seen.
What little water there was had drained out while he was climbing. He
approached the dragon and said, "I'm sorry. I meant to help you, I
really did. But the cup is empty."
To his surprise the beast rose up with a roar of glee.
Thank you, oh thank you, little knight,
You have saved me, all right!
An empty cup it may be,
But it was filled with kindness, you see.
And an empty cup filled, sets me free!
I was a good and gentle dragon long ago,
Before I angered an evil wizard so that
He cursed me to be as wicked as he.
I'm forever in your debt,
I'm the happiest dragon yet.
Let me take you home.
I'll guard you forever, I tell no lies.
I'll be your wings, if you'll be my eyes.
The littlest knight was shocked, stunned and
delighted. The evil dragon wasn't evil at all, only bewitched, and now
that the riddles were solved it was proving to be as kind as its new
t thing the littlest knight did was attach
the beehive to a high rock at the mouth of the cave. The bees were
thrilled. They had a new home with shelter, protection and most
important, privacy, and the stream below had enough flowers growing by
it to make more honey than they would ever need.
Then the littlest knight, astride his flying dragon, flew home with his pony galloping beneath.
At first the King and all the kingdom
were terrified. All except the Princess, that is. She trusted her
littlest knight and upon hearing the whole story set about immediately
to make a healing salve for the dragon's eyes.
The littlest knight married her and
got half the kingdom. The dragon got back his eyesight and, true to his
word, guarded the kingdom faithfully.
In time, the littlest knight and the Princess had seven children who loved taking rides on the dragon's back.
Down in the woods on summer evenings, When trees and brackens grow dark and blue, And things go rustling among the shadows, It makes me think of a tale I knew :
Long, long ago there was once a Princess, the loveliest Princess in the land, who vowed a vow she would not get married for all the King's and the Queen's command.
Though princes rode on their prancing horses, and kings drove up in their robes of state, the haughty Princess would never see them, and turned them all from the palace gate.
At last her father grew very angry and said he would send her far away, unless she made up her mind to marry, and chose a husband without delay. The King looked dreadfully fierce and stately standing before her by his throne, and so she promised, if first he made her a mantle of every fur that's known. The hunters went through the kingdom hunting, the furriers sorted their finest fur - Ermine, sable, and mink and otter, bearskin and deerskin to use for her. They took chinchilla, and mole, and possum, and fluffy rabbit, and smooth brown rat, sealskin, tiger-skin, monkey, leopard, calf, and pony, and dog, and cat. Badger and beaver, and wolf and weasel, and ferret and mouse, and fox and stoat ; and every beast you could ever think of gave her a piece of gave her a piece of its cosy coat. At last the mantle was sown and finished, and what do you think the Princess did ? She put it on, and that very evening she ran away to the woods and hid ! A prince from a distant country found her lying asleep in a hollow tree, and thought, when he saw the furry bundle : what can this odd looking creature be !
He took his spear and was going to kill it, when just at that moment the Princess woke, and the loveliest face he had ever dreamed of laughed at him out of the furry cloak.
She liked the Prince, and he liked the Princess, and took her back to the Castle hall, he asked the King for her hand in marriage, and so they married, and that was all.
But often I think in the woods at twilight, When little soft rustlings come and go, It might be rabbits, it might be fairies ; Orit might be a princess - you never know !
The beautiful picture of the Princess is from Google Images and it is from the blue_princess_by_qianyu.jpg The blue Prince has no name to refer to, but is on the same Images
GOLD AND SILVER
"Whenever a child dies, an angel comes down from heaven, takes the child in its arms, and,
spreading out its large white wings, visits all the places that had
been particularly dear to the child, where it gathers a handful of
flowers, flying up again to heaven with them, and there they bloom more
beautifully than on earth: but that flower which it loves the most
receives a voice, so that it can join in the universal chorus of
thanksgiving and praise."
Thus spoke an angel whilst carrying a dead child up to heaven; and the
child listened as in a dream; and they visited the places that had been
most dear to the child whilst alive, and where it had played, passing
through gardens full of the most beautiful flowers. "What flowers shall we take with us to plant in heaven," the angel asked.
They gathered of the beautiful plants, the perfume and the colours of
which delighted mankind: but the despised buttercup and the wild pansy,
they took with them also.
we have flowers," said the child, and the angel nodded. But they still
did not fly up to heaven. It was night and all was quiet; but yet they
remained in the large town, hovering over one of the narrowest streets,
where there were heaps of straw, ashes and all manner of rubbish, for
it was quarter day, when many people change their lodgings. There lay
broken plates, pieces of plaster, the crowns of old hats, and rags of
all sorts - in short, a mass of things in no way pleasing to the eye.
The angel pointed down among all the rubbish to some pieces of a
broken flower pot, and a lump of earth which had fallen out of it held
together by the roots of a large dried up wild flower, which had been
thrown into the street as useless. "That we will take with us." the angel said: "I will tell you why as we fly on."
'And this is what the angel then said.' "There
below in that narrow street in a cellar, lived a poor, sick boy, who
from his earliest years has been bedridden. When at his best he could
manage to walk around the room a couple of times on his crutches, and
that was all. He only knew of the green forest by the son of a
neighbour bringing him the first branch of a beech tree that was out in
leaf, which he held over his head fancying that he was in the forest
under the beech trees, with the sun shining and the thirds singing.
One day in spring the neighbours son brought him wild flowers, amongst
which there happened to be one that had its roots, and it was therefore
set in a pot and placed near his bed. The flower flourished, sending
forth new shoots and blossomed every year so that it became the sick
boys flower garden, his greatest comfort and treasure here on earth. He
watered it and watched it every day, taking care that it had even to
the last ray of sun which glided through the low window. The
flower became identified with his dreams, for it was for him alone it
blossomed, delighting him by its scent and beautiful colours, and to it
he turned in death. It is now a year that he has been in heaven, and
for a year the flower has stood, forgotten and dried up. "And how do you know all this?" the child asked. "I know it," the angel answered, " because I myself was the poor sick boy who walked on crutches and I know my flower well." In
till during the moving, it was thrown out into the street. And that is
the flower, which we have placed in our nosegay, for it has given more
pleasure than the most beautiful flower in the garden of a queen."
The child now thoroughly opened her eyes, and looked up into the
angel's beautiful face, which beamed with happiness and at the same
moment they were in heaven, where joy and bliss reigned. The dead child
received wings like the other angels, with whom he flew about hand in
hand. The flowers, well they received their new life whereas the poor
withered wild flowers of the angel received a voice, and was able to
sing with the angels. All sang their praises and thanksgiving, to
the child who had just arrived in heaven, and to the poor wild flower,
which had been thrown out amongst the rubbish in the narrow dark street.
PUSS IN BOOTS
A Pantomine for 2009 from Diddily.
was a miller who left no more estate to the three sons he had than his
mill, his ass, and his cat. scrivener nor attorney was sent for. They
would soon have eaten up all the poor patrimony. The eldest had the
mill, the second the ass, and the youngest nothing but the cat. The
partition was soon made. Neither The poor young fellow was quite
comfortless at having so poor a lot.
said he, "may get their living handsomely enough by joining
their stocks together; but for my part, when I have eaten up my
cat,1and made me a muff of his skin, I must die of hunger."
The Cat, who heard all this, but made as if he did not, said to him with a grave and serious air:
"Do not thus afflict yourself, my good master. You have nothing else
to do but to give me a bag and get a pair of boots made for me that I
may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, and
you shall see that you have not so bad a portion in me as you imagine."
Cat's master did not build very much upon what he said. He had often
seen him play a great many cunning tricks to catch rats and mice,
as when he used to hang by the heels, or hide himself in the meal, and
make as if he were dead; so that he did not altogether despair of his
affording him some help in his miserable condition.
When the Cat had
what he asked for he booted himself very gallantly, and putting his bag
about his neck, he held the strings of it in his two forepaws and went
into a warren
where was great abundance of rabbits. He put bran and sow-thistle into
his bag, and stretching out at length, as if he had been dead, he
waited for some young rabbits, not yet acquainted with the deceits of
the world, to come and rummage his bag for what he had put into it.
he lain down but he had what he wanted. A rash and foolish young
rabbit jumped into his bag, and Monsieur Puss, immediately drawing
close the strings, took and killed him without pity. Proud of his prey,
he went with it to the palace and asked to speak with his majesty.He
was shown upstairs into the King's apartment, and, making a low
reverence,19 said to him:
"I have brought you, sir, a rabbit of the warren, which my noble lord the Marquis of Carabas"
(for that was the title which puss was pleased to give his master) "has
commanded me to present to your majesty from him."
"Tell thy master," said the king, "that I thank him and that he does me a great deal of pleasure."
time he went and hid himself among some standing corn, holding still
his bag open, and when a brace of partridges ran into it he drew the
strings and so caught them both. He went and made a present of these to the king,
as he had done before of the rabbit which he took in the warren. The
king, in like manner, received the partridges with great pleasure, and
ordered him some money for drink.
Cat continued for two or three months
thus to carry his Majesty, from time to time, game of his master's
taking. One day in particular, when he knew for certain that he was to
take the air along the river-side, with his daughter, the most
beautiful princess in the world, he said to his master:
you will follow my advice your fortune is made. You have nothing else
to do but go and wash yourself in the river, in that part I shall show
you, and leave the rest to me."
Marquis of Carabas did what the Cat advised him to, without knowing why
or wherefore. While he was washing the King passed by, and the Cat
began to cry out:
"Help! help! My Lord Marquis of Carabas is going to be drowned."
this noise the King put his head out of the coach- window, and, finding
it was the Cat who had so often brought him such good game, he
commanded his guards to run immediately to the assistance of his
Lordship the Marquis of Carabas. While they were drawing the poor
Marquis out of the river, the Cat came up to the coach and told the
King that, while his master was washing, there came by some rogues, who
went off with his clothes, though he had cried out: "Thieves! thieves!"
several times, as loud as he could.
cunning Cat had hidden them under a great stone. The King immediately
commanded the officers of his wardrobe to run and fetch one of his best suits for the Lord Marquis of Carabas.
King caressed him after a very extraordinary manner, and as the fine
clothes he had given him extremely set off his good mien (for he was
well made and very handsome in his person), the King's daughter took a
secret inclination to him, and the Marquis of Carabas had no sooner
cast two or three respectful and somewhat tender glances but she fell
in love with him to distraction. The King would needs have him come
into the coach and take part of the airing. The Cat, quite overjoyed to
see his project begin to succeed, marched on before, and, meeting with
some countrymen, who were mowing a meadow, he said to them:
people, you who are mowing, if you do not tell the King that the meadow
you mow belongs to my Lord Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as herbs for the pot."
The King did not fail asking of the mowers to whom the meadow they were mowing belonged.
"To my Lord Marquis of Carabas," answered they altogether, for the Cat's threats had made them terribly afraid.
"You see, sir," said the Marquis, "this is a meadow which never fails to yield a plentiful harvest every year."
The Master Cat, who went still on before, met with some reapers, and said to them:
people, you who are reaping, if you do not tell the King that all this
corn belongs to the Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small
as herbs for the pot."
The King, who passed by a moment after, would needs know to whom all that corn, which he then saw, did belong.
my Lord Marquis of Carabas," replied the reapers, and the King was very
well pleased with it, as well as the Marquis, whom he congratulated
thereupon. The Master Cat, who went always before, said the same words
to all he met, and the King was astonished at the vast estates of my
Lord Marquis of Carabas.
Monsieur Puss came at last to a stately castle, the master of which was an ogre,
the richest had ever been known; for all the lands which the King had
then gone over belonged to this castle. The Cat, who had taken care to
inform himself who this ogre was and what he could do, asked to speak
with him, saying he could not pass so near his castle without having
the honor of paying his respects to him.
The ogre received him as civilly as an ogre could do, and made him sit down.
have been assured," said the Cat, "that you have the gift of being able
to change yourself into all sorts of creatures you have a mind to; you
can, for example, transform yourself into a lion, or elephant, and the
"That is true," answered the ogre very briskly; "and to convince you, you shall see me now become a lion."
was so sadly terrified at the sight of a lion so near him that he
immediately got into the gutter, not without abundance of trouble and
danger, because of his boots, which were of no use at all to him in
walking upon the tiles. A little while after, when Puss saw that the
ogre had resumed his natural form, he came down, and owned he had been
very much frightened.
have been, moreover, informed," said the Cat, "but I know not how to
believe it, that you have also the power to take on you the shape of
the smallest animals; for example, to change yourself into a rat or a
mouse; but I must own to you I take this to be impossible."
"Impossible!" cried the ogre; "you shall see that presently."
at the same time he changed himself into a mouse, and began to run
about the floor. Puss no sooner perceived this but he fell upon him and ate him up.
the King, who saw, as he passed, this fine castle of the ogre's, had a
mind to go into it. Puss, who heard the noise of his Majesty's coach
running over the draw-bridge, ran out, and said to the King:
"Your Majesty is welcome to this castle of my Lord Marquis of Carabas."
my Lord Marquis," cried the King, "and does this castle also belong to
you? There can be nothing finer than this court and all the stately
buildings which surround it; let us go into it, if you please."
Marquis gave his hand to the Princess, and followed the King, who went
first. They passed into a spacious hall, where they found a magnificent collation,
which the ogre had prepared for his friends, who were that very day to
visit him, but dared not to enter, knowing the King was there. His
Majesty was perfectly charmed with the good qualities of my Lord
Marquis of Carabas, as was his daughter, who had fallen violently in
love with him, and, seeing the vast estate he possessed, said to him, after having drunk five or six glasses:
"It will be owing to yourself only, my Lord Marquis, if you are not my son-in-law."
Marquis, making several low bows, accepted the honor which his Majesty
conferred upon him, and forthwith, that very same day, married the Princess.
Puss became a great lord, and never ran after mice any more but only for his diversion.
by Charles Perrault;
was born in Paris to a wealthy bourgeois family, son of Pierre Perrault
and Paquette Le Clerc. It wasn't until he was 62 in 1665, that he
decided to dedicate himself to his children and published Tales and
Stories of the Past with Morals (Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé)
(1697), with the subtitle: Tales of Mother Goose (Les Contes de ma Mère
l'Oie). Its publication made him suddenly widely-known beyond his own
circles and marked the beginnings of a new literary genre, the fairy
He had actually published it under the name of his last son (born in
1678), Pierre (Perrault) Darmancourt, (Armancourt was the name of a
property he bought for him), probably fearful of criticism from the
"Ancients". In the tales, he used images from around him, such as
the Chateau Ussé for Sleeping BeautyPuss-in-Boots, the Marquis of the
and contrasted his folktale subject matter, with details and asides and
subtext drawn from the world of fashion. He died in Paris in 1703 at
GOLD AND SILVER
Mad Tom Tantamount walked along the riverbank
and played his flute beside the fount
where butterflies and old cuckoos issued from the singing mouths of harlequins and montebanks. On an Autumn's clammy dawn he wandered where the trees were shorn of leaves and flowers til their bones rattled in the wind and moaned and all the butterflies were dead and all the cuckoos flown and fled and old Tom wandered all alone and played his flute to cloud and stone.
Mad Tom Tantamount lay his head in deep cold snow and all his tunes went to and fro where the dreams of stars are sewn and the souls of men are blown inbetween the Midnight trees where giants crawl on hands and knees.
When the long cold Winter passed old Tom's bones had turned to mash and barley grew between his toes and inbetween his eyes and nose there grew a sweet and thorny Rose but mad Tom played his ancient flute and all the Summer brought forth fruit.
Mad Tom Tantamount walks along the riverbank and played his flute beside a fount where butterflies and bold cuckoos issue from the madcap mouths of passing bards and mountebanks and lads and lasses walk in wonder where the wild bees raid and plunder.
Old Tom dawdles through the day or strides upon his long thin shanks where the crystal fountain sings and brings forth things with legs and wings - but though Tom plays his rustic flute all the world is deaf and mute and Sleep hangs heavy on the eyes of Men beneath the midday skies.
Manga's I love them, and the films.
GOLD AND SILVER SILVER By Katharine Tynan
'Twas up the hill and down the hill, Upon the hottest day, And in the wood we found a pool Where silver fishes play.
The three tall poplars standing there Had caught the wind and kept Turning their silver leaves in air Though all the breezes slept.
And in the deep and amber pool The silver fins and gold Went turning till the day was cool And very nearly cold.
I wish I was a little fish All the hot day to swim, All the hot night to lie asleep In depths so green and dim.
Tonight when I shall fall asleep It may be I shall dream Of silver trees that turn a silver leaf Of fins a-gleam..
Tynan was born into a large farming family in Clondalkin, County Dublin, and educated at a convent Drogheda. Her poems were first published in 1878. Tynan went on to play a major part in Dublin literary circles, until she married and moved to England; later she lived at Clare morris, County Mayo magistrate there from 1914 until 1919. For a while, Tynan was a close associate of William Butler Yeats (who may have proposed marriage and been rejected, around 1885), and later a correspondent of Francis Ledwidge.
She is said to have written over 100 novels; there were some
unsurprising comments about a lack of self-criticism in her output. Her
Collected Poems appeared in 1930; she also wrote five autobiographical volumes.
Tynan died in Wimbledon, London, in 1931 at the age of 70.
GOLD AND SILVER Share Wizards.
By the one and only Alfred Noyes.
There's many a proud wizard in Araby and Egypt
Can read the silver writing of the stars as they run;
And many a dark gypsy, with a pheasant in his knapsack,
Has gathered more by moonshine than wiser men have won;
But I know a Wizardry
Can take a buried acorn
And whisper forests out of it, to tower against the sun.
There's many a magician in Bagdad and Benares
Can read you for a penny - what your future is to be;
And a flock of crazy prophets that by staring at a crystal
Can fill it with more fancies than there's herring in the sea;
But I know a Wizardry
Can break a freckled egg-shell
And shake a thrush out of it, in every hawthorn tree.
There's many a crafty alchemist in Mecca and Jerusalem;
And Michael Scott and Merlin were reckoned to be wise;
But I know a wizardry
Can take a wisp of sun-fire
And round it to a planet, and roll it through the skies,
With cities, and sea ports, and little shining windows,
And hedgegrows and gardens, and loving human eyes.
"Oh wow, isn't that wonderful kids, I love this guy Alfred Noyes.
He writes some of the best poetry and rhymes in the world, and I think most of them on on my websites, ."
The Three Crowns
The Three Crowns is an Italian literary fairy tale written by Giambattista Basile in the Pentamerone
A childless king heard a voice asking him whether he would rather
have a daughter who would flee him or a son who would destroy him.
After consulting his wise men, who argued over whether the danger to
life or honor was the worse, he concluded that the daughter would be
less harmful to his realm; he went back to the garden and answered the
voice that he wanted the daughter. She was born, and her father tried
to shelter her in a castle, but when she was fifteen, he concluded a
marriage for her. When she left to go to her husband, a whirlwind
carried her off.
The wind left her at an ogress's house in the forest.
An old woman there warned her of the danger, saying the ogress did not
eat her only because she needed a servant and the old woman was old and
tough; she gave the princess the keys, to go inside and clean the house
perfectly, which was her only chance. The princess, Marchetta, cleaned
the house. When the ogress returned, the old woman hid Marchetta and
claimed the credit. When the ogress left again, the old woman fed
Marchetta and told her to prepare a very fine dinner to charm her,
warning her that if the ogress swore by all the seven heavens, she was
not to be trusted; only her oath by her three crowns was trustworthy.
The ogress praised the dinner and made many fine oaths about what she
would do for the cook, but only when she swore by her three crowns did
Marchetta come out. The ogress said that Marchetta had outsmarted her
and could live in the castle as if it were her own; she gave her the
keys and warned her against opening one doorway.
One day Marchetta
opened it and found three women dressed in gold, sitting on thrones,
asleep; these were the ogress's daughters, whom she kept there because
they would be in danger if not woken by a king's daughter. They woke,
Marchetta feed them each an egg, and the ogress returned. Angry, she
slapped Marchetta; then she tried to appease her, but Marchetta
insisted on leaving. The ogress gave her a suit of men's clothes and a magic ring,
which she should wear with the stone turned inside. If she were ever in
great danger, and heard the ogress's name like an echo, she should look
at the stone, but not until then.
Marchetta went to the king and, claiming to be a merchant's son driven out by his wicked stepmother's
cruelty, took service as a page. The queen desired her as a lover and
propositioned her. Marchetta, not wishing to reveal that she was a
woman, said that she could not believe that the queen would cuckold the
king. The queen told the king that she had tried to seduce her. The
king immediately condemned Marchetta to death. Marchetta lamented her
fate and asked who would help her; the echo said, "The ogress";
Marchetta remembered the stone and looked at it.
A voice proclaimed
that she was a woman, shocking her guards. The king demanded her story,
and Marchetta gave it. The king had his wife thrown into the sea,
invited Marchetta's parents to his court, and married her.
Compiled by the wonderful people of Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Giambattista (1575-1632) and The Tale of Tales
group of southern Italian literary figures since the Middle Ages who
have expressed themselves in their native, southern language, one of
the most important is Giambattista Basile, the author of Il Pentamerone
or Li Cunto de li Cunti (The Tale of Tales), known in English
as, simply, The Pentameron. It is the first published collection
of European fairy tales. It is a frame-story like Chaucer's Canterbury
Tales and Boccaccio's Decameron; that is, the telling of
tales is presented within the framework of a group of people passing
the time by sharing stories. Basile's Pentamerone tells fifty
tales over five nights, all of them in Neapolitan. The most famous of
the tales is Zezolla, also known as "The Cat Cinderella,"
apparently the first published version of the famous fairy-tale, better
known to English-language readers in a translation of the later French
version by Perault.
was born in Naples and lived and wrote there. He also traveled to and
wrote in Venice and Mantua, but always returned to Naples, where he
was the court poet for various families of the nobility, including that
of Stigliano Carafa. By 1620 he was among the most respected Neapolitan
writers, known for both madrigals and odes in Italian as well as poetry
He stands on the stairs, Just half-way down, Weathered and worn and old and brown, Stilled is his 'tick' and dumb his chime And nobdy asks him whats the time, Nobody asks him, Nobody cares, Nobody stops on the way down stairs, To look at his honest face and see. That he's never moved on from half past three.
The dining room clock is wound each night, The clock in the drawing room's always right,
And down in the kitchen cook declares Her clock goes better than those upstairs. The clock in the study, the clock in the hall, The great round clock on the nursery wall, Yes, every clock may work with a will. But up on the landing time stand still.
The day has gone since Grandfather Clock Filled the house with his deep 'tick-tock,' His 'tick' is still and his chime is dumb, And he'll stay like that till kingdom come. But although he is always half-past three, 'Well, once every day I'm right' says he. 'There's little a worn out clock can do, But once every day my hands point true!
Could you not see in your mind the big Grand Father Clock standing on the corner of the stairs. The old Victorian Houses and Edwardian Houses had three main floors then the cellar. We lived in the bottom floor and bathed in the cellar, tin bath and all. plus the spiders, always the spiders. my Grandmother and Auntie Irene lived in the front of the house and my Auntie Grace, Uncle Bill and cousin on the second floor. They also had a bathroom, wow, we never used it mind. Grandmother's, Grandfathr Clock stood on the landing at the top of the second flight of stairs. Funny how stories can bring back memories of ones own child-hood.
Here is a picture of a Victorian and Edwardian house together, don't you think that the object outside looks a bit like a grand-father clock ? These pictures come from Canada
Share "HEIDI" THIS WONDERFUL STORY IN SONGS AND PICTURES.
GET YOUR CHAIR AND POPCORN, ASK DAD TO MAKE YOU A JUICE AND ENJOY!!!
THE RIDDLE OF THE
By Albert Maisel
Amid the vast wastlands of the high Himalayas there walks a giant creature, whose likeness to Man has puzzled scientists for years. Is it, as some people think, merely a bear or a monkey - or even just a fairy tale? Or is it perhaps the long sought "missing link" between the apes and Man? The natives who live in the high, lonely valleys of the Himalayas call the strange thing by several names... Yeti, Meti, Shookpa, Mi-go, or Kang-Mi. The one we hear most of all is of course "Yeti." They have known. about the Yeti for hundreds of years, but it was not until 1887 that the creature was first heard of in the Western world. Colonel W. A. Waddell, a British mountaineer was trudging across a snow-field when he came upon a mystifying set of tracks. They were like the footprints of a gigantic man, stalking along where no one would expect to find a lone human being - least of all barefoot. Nineteen years later, another explorer not only saw the Yeti's tracks, he caught a glimpse of a great, hairy, two-legged creature. It ran away from him across the snow until it vanished over a ridge in the distance. As time went on more climbers and explorers sighted the Yeti. Sometimes it would be seen disapearing into a forest; sometimes walking across a snowfield, stooping now and then to pull up roots and shrubs. It became known as the "Abominable Snowman."
Attacked by a "Snowman"
In 1948, two Norwegian explorers called Frostis and Thorberg followed some Yeti footprints in the snow. Suddenly they found themselves face to face with a pair of enormous, shaggy-haired, two legged creatures. Quickly the men tried to lasso one of the creatures, but the beast attacked Frostis and savagely mauled his shoulder. Thorberg saved his friend by firing his rifle and frightening the Yetis away. A few years later, a British Mountaineer named Eric Shipton photographed the tracks of a pair of Yetis. For several miles he was able to follow the path made by the creatures. They had walked side by side, with strides longer than a man's, until they had come to a deep crevasse. Here the great creatures leapt across the gap, they landedo one leg, as a human being would do! Not on all fours as you would expect a bear to do! Some scientist still thought the Snowman might only be a imalayan red bear or even a Langur Monkey. But very few red bears walk on their hind legs for more that a couple of steps, and their footprints always show the marks of their claws. Langur Monkeys, too, walk on all fourr when on the ground, but in any case the feet of the Langur's were too small to make tracks the size of the Snowman's.
Hunting the Yeti
In 1954 The Daily Mail arranged the first Yeti hunting expedition. The hunters took many photographs of the giant tracks, some of which measured as much as thirteen inches, and they discovered another important fact. The Yetis lived not only i the high mountains, but lower down as well. However not one yeti was actually seen by the hunters. Three years later, a member of an American expedition followed some Yeti tracks over freshly fallen snow. He saw that the snowman had walke upright down a slope as a man would. Once it had fallen, slid through the snow, and then got up again on to two feet At another place it had climbed over a fallen tree, putting up a hand - or paw to steady itself! What a strange creature indeed, to behave so like a man, in the wilds of the Himalayas. At one village, the Americans were told that a small boy and his sister had met a Yeti while guarding a herd of yaks. The Yeti had walked out of the wood near the frightened children, then they calmly turned around and went back into the trees. The boy discribed it as seven to eight feet tall, and that it looked rather like a gorilla. A second American expedition made new plans. The hunters would first find some Yeti tracks. Then they would set up "hides" where they could conceal themselves until the Yeti returned. To catch it, they might use snares specially made so as not to hurt the Yeti. Or they might use a new kind of gun which fired cardridges containing drugs. The drugs would render the snowman unconcious and out of action for a short while. The Americans had no trouble in finding the footprints, in fact for two nights running, some inquisitive Yetis actually invaded their camp, overturning cooking pots and other equipment, but frightened by the noise they had made, they made of at great haste before the men could get out of their sleeping bags. When at last the men switched on their torches all they Yetis were gone, nothing in sight, but there in the snow were two sets of ten inch footprints, in a clear trail that vanished where the snow ended on the bare rocky slope.
Snowmen won't be scared
Meanwhile one of the explorers, called Gerald Russell, had found more Yeti tracks at a jungle pool some distance away. He set up a hide, and spent ten days watching from behind a thick screen of branches, hopig the creatures would pass by on their way to drink. Finally one night, a villager came upon some wet footprints on a rock about 300 yards from Russell's hide. Swinging his torch round he saw a small Snowman, squatting on a boulder across the stream some twenty yards away. At his frightened shout the creature rose slowly to its feet, and stalked unhurriedly into the darkness of the trees. The following night, Russell's guide went out with the villager, hoping to drive the Yeti towards Russell's hide. After an hours wait, they caught the Snowan in the glare of their torches; but instead of retreating towards the hide, the creature advanced threateningly upon the two natives. Afraid of being attacked the natives turned and fled. In the weeks that followed, members of the expedition took it in turns to keep watch from a new hide by the pool but the monsoons arrived and that was it, the men were forced to abandon there expedition.
The Riddle Remains
Once again the hunters were disappointed: a Yeti had not been captured. But more had been learnt about these mysterious creatures. . The British expedition had been able to photograph Yeti scalps that had been preserved for hundreds of years by the Lamas of a Himalayan Monastery. They measured tenty-six inches round, and were covered with red bristly hair. Now the American had brought back photographs of a Yeti's hand. The hand was mummified with age, but the length of its fingers and the joints of its bones were quite different from the hands of a human, although the shape of the thumb was like a man's. Scientists now at last believe that the Snowman is closely related to primative man and probably looks more like a gorilla than any other living creature. Perhaps explorers will soon bring the mysterious "Creature" down from the mountains and then we shall know the riddle of the Abominable Snowman. Me, I hope the never do find them. They will be safer up there, left by themselves to live their own life......remember E.T. xxx
The Sasquatch is the most famous cryptid in North America. The term Sasquatch
originates from the Salish Tribes of British Columbia and means "wild man
of the woods". The Sasquatch is described by most as a hairy creature over
six feet tall, with large human like feet. Because of the creatures large feet
it has also came to be called "Big Foot" by many.
Other common names
for the creature are " The Abominable Snowman" and "The