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I
The irresponsive silence of the land,
The irresponsive sounding of the sea,
Speak both one message of one sense to me:—
Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand
Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band
Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;
But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?
What heart shall touch thy heart? what hand thy hand?—
And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,
And sometimes I remember days of old
When fellowship seemed not so far to seek
And all the world and I seemed much less cold,
And at the rainbow’s foot lay surely gold,
And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.

II
Thus am I mine own prison. Everything
Around me free and sunny and at ease:
Or if in shadow, in a shade of trees
Which the sun kisses, where the gay birds sing
And where all winds make various murmuring;
Where bees are found, with honey for the bees;
Where sounds are music, and where silences
Are music of an unlike fashioning.
Then gaze I at the merrymaking crew,
And smile a moment and a moment sigh
Thinking: Why can I not rejoice with you?
But soon I put the foolish fancy by:
I am not what I have nor what I do;
But what I was I am, I am even I.

III
Therefore myself is that one only thing
I hold to use or waste, to keep or give;
My sole possession every day I live,
And still mine own despite Time’s winnowing.
Ever mine own, while moons and seasons bring
From crudeness ripeness mellow and sanitive;
Ever mine own, till Death shall ply his sieve;
And still mine own, when saints break grave and sing.
And this myself as king unto my King
I give, to Him Who gave Himself for me;
Who gives Himself to me, and bids me sing
A sweet new song of His redeemed set free;
he bids me sing: O death, where is thy sting?
And sing: O grave, where is thy victory?

—Christina Rossetti

I won’t say that the new Robin Hood is a great movie, but I don’t understand why it has received a cool reception. It was certainly more medieval than previous film versions of the story that I’ve seen, and it doesn’t have much cheerfulness; but the “Brave Heart” sorts of themes are well served, not overdone so as to become self-important.

One minor detail in particular caught my eye: the allusion to the Normandy invasion, when the French bad guys are landing on the English coast. The visual “quoting” of Saving Private Ryan was obvious – and interesting. But this time the invaders didn’t prevail.

The view from Chleb

We were granted some intriguing weather for our Saturday-morning hike in the Mala Fatra. Clouds were rolling down the canyons, sweeping across the peaks, scattering to give us glimpses of the valley below, and enshrouding us in glory. We rode the lift from Vrátna and hiked to the peak of Chleb. The above photo was taken looking south. I think the brilliant rape-seed fields are a nice touch.

We’ll be taking a very brief trip to Vrátna valley for a family getaway. The weather doesn’t look like it’s going to cooperate, so I’ll post someone else’s picture. It’s more likely to make you jealous….

Once again on our daughter’s recommendation we found a good film. Wives and Daughters is a BBC adaptation of some obscure novel (I mean that I never heard of it before). It’s got all the nice period costumes and all that lovely English stuff, so it’s sure to please the Pride-and-Prejudice crowd. The plot is very much in keeping with that genre – all about who will marry whom, social scandal, marrying above or below your station in society, and so on. But what I found myself really enjoying was simply listening to the dialogue. The elegance of the structure, rhythm, vocabulary – the glory of the language! It was, in fact, glorified language, and I doubt that any society at any time every really spoke so well in “real life.”

Which makes me believe that there is a place for such glorified language: a glorified city. So I’m now certain that we will all learn to talk this way in the New Jerusalem – whether it is in English, some other language, or many languages….