Ann and I didn't go on the river this year, as we'd agreed to take over the care of Great Grandaughter Elsa, while the family explored the river. Last Saturday drove over to Cambridge, calling at Railway Station to pick up Granddaughter Laura, then on to the River Cam, where a couple of punts were waiting for us (eighteen or so family).
Been hoping to be able to put photos up, but computer won't wear it at any price, so will have to be a verbal only (unillustrated) entry. You'll probably be aware of it (it's a real old chestnut). Oh! breathe on it softly, it dies in an hour.
It will make it acutely and instantly hear īut in shades let it rest, like an elegant flower, It softens the heart, and though deaf to the ear, Nor e'er in the whirlwind of passion be drowned In the whispers of conscience it there will be found, Without it the soldier and sailor may roam,īut woe to the wretch who expels it from home In the heaps of the miser 'tis hoarded with care,īut is sure to be lost in the prodigal heir With the husbandman toils, and with monarchs is crowned It begins every hope, every wish it must bound, 'Tis the prop of his house and the end of his wealth Presides o'er his happiness, honour, and health, It assists at his birth and attends him in death, 'twas given to man with his earliest breath, 'Twill be found in the spheres when they're riven asunder 'Twas seen in the lightning, 'twas heard in the thunder, In the confines of Earth 'twas permitted to rest,Īnd the depth of the ocean its presence confessed 'Twas whispered in Heaven, 'twas muttered in Hell,Īnd echo caught softly the sound as it fell: It's more of a conundrum than an enigma, but it's one that our grandparents would have recognised instantly. It's not great poetry but I've always found it very neat verse.
It is by Catherine Fanshawe, who lived from 1765 to 1834.
The second is that although I'm not in a position to offer a Mystery Object, as I can't publish photos at the moment, here is a sort of verbal, or rather literary, mystery object for your perusal. The first is that I noticed this morning that a wild violet in a corner of the garden is again in flower - 21st September!! Two items in this unillustrated blog entry. It's been a lovely day - who could ask for more from a birthday?.which hasn't ended yet. Before we left I did running repairs on Sylvia's Vienna Regulator clock, which, being German, sulks occasionally- and sorted it out for her. This time it was our turn to rush off out, which we did, and had an excellent tea with Sylvia (and the mutual friend Sue, who'd popped in to see that Sylvia was up to this hectic social life). It was Sylvia to say that yes, she had been rushed into hospital yesterday, but that she had jolly well rushed off out again at the earliest opportunity, and that tea was ready on the table waiting for us. This afternoon we got home just after three o'clock to hear the 'phone ringing. Yesterday evening we got a 'phone call from a mutual friend to say that Sylvia had been rushed into hospital, and to cancel the tea appointment. However, I would guess that in the past these were servants' quarters, and are probably now staff bedrooms? Not much changes, does it?Įarlier in the week we received an invitation to go to tea at three o'clock today, from our ninety year old friend Sylvia, which we accepted gladly. Having said a bit back how immaculate the front of the building looked, I took a walk round the back of the building, and photographed some of the top floor (which really does need a bit of money spending on it).
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