https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F%C3%AAte_galante
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Antoine_Watteau
and watteau's double panel of a picture shop ...
and cochin's fabulous engraving after watteau ...
and a portrait of watteau ...
and a drawing by watteau ...
... of the seven deadly sins, the eighth and most horrid is emotional blackmail ... whilst for this blogger, the only sacred thing is life itself
Monday, May 20, 2019
Sunday, May 19, 2019
Saturday, May 18, 2019
margaret cavendish ... a bright star
praised in today's guardian by siri hustvedt ...
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/may/17/siri-hustvedt-books-that-made-me
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margaret_Cavendish,_Duchess_of_Newcastle-upon-Tyne
philosophy ...
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53679
and fiction ...
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51783
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/may/17/siri-hustvedt-books-that-made-me
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Margaret_Cavendish,_Duchess_of_Newcastle-upon-Tyne
philosophy ...
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53679
and fiction ...
https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/51783
Sunday, May 12, 2019
on raglan road ...
On Raglan Road on an autumn day I met her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.
That her dark hair would weave a snare that I might one day rue;
I saw the danger, yet I walked along the enchanted way,
And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf at the dawning of the day.
On Grafton Street in November we tripped lightly along the ledge
Of the deep ravine where can be seen the worth of passion's pledge,
The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay -
O I loved too much and by such and such is happiness thrown away.
I gave her gifts of the mind I gave her the secret sign that's known
To the artists who have known the true gods of sound and stone
And word and tint. I did not stint for I gave her poems to say.
With her own name there and her own dark hair like clouds over fields of May
On a quiet street where old ghosts meet I see her walking now
Away from me so hurriedly my reason must allow
That I had wooed not as I should a creature made of clay -
When the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of day.
luke kelly sings the song that patrick kavanagh "gave him" ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EuafmLvoJow
background stuff ...
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_Raglan_Road
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Kavanagh
seamus heaney on patrick kavanagh ...
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2005/jan/01/poetry
eoghan harris remembering patrick's wife ...
https://www.independent.ie/opinion/columnists/eoghan-harris/in-memory-of-poet-patrick-kavanaghs-witty-wife-36512244.html
Friday, May 10, 2019
Thursday, May 9, 2019
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