Literature and movie review

A well loved poem of mine is the lady of Shalott written by Alfred Lord Tennyson.  This poem is set in Camelot at the time of King Arthur.  It is the story of a woman who has been cursed and so she must constantly weave a magic web without looking directly out at the world. The only way she can look out at the world is by viewing the world through a mirror. 

The full poem is found here  http://charon.sfsu.edu/tennyson/tennlady.html

lady of shalottI Am Half-Sick of Shadows," Said the Lady of Shalott" by John William Waterhouse

  
Tennyson magically tells the story though exquisite poetry. He masterfullyy describes the scene in which she lives and creates a beautiful picture of her tragic life.  Her home is on an island in a river which flows toward Camelot. One day Sir Lancelot rides past in all his glory, the lady of shalott turns to see him more clearly and doing so the curse comes upon her as the mirror cracks from side to side.

lady of shalott" by John William Waterhouse

She leaves her home, finds a boat upon which she writes her name, and floats down the river to Camelot. Just before she arrives at the palace she dies.  Lancelot sees her and comments on how lovely she was.

This poem has also been put to music by Loreena McKennitt.  It is a beautiful rendition of this poem.  To view this piece of music go to You tube or your local music store.  It is stunning!! Enjoy

Inspriation Saturday

 

The Old Violin

'Twas battered and scarred,
And the auctioneer thought it
hardly worth his while
To waste his time on the old violin,
but he held it up with a smile.

"What am I bid, good people", he cried,
"Who starts the bidding for me?"
"One dollar, one dollar, Do I hear two?"
"Two dollars, who makes it three?"
"Three dollars once, three dollars twice, going for three,"

But, No,
From the room far back a gray bearded man
Came forward and picked up the bow,
Then wiping the dust from the old violin
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody, pure and sweet
As sweet as the angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said "What now am I bid for this old violin?"
As he held it aloft with its' bow.

"One thousand, one thousand, Do I hear two?"
"Two thousand, Who makes it three?"
"Three thousand once, three thousand twice,
Going and gone", said he.

The audience cheered,
But some of them cried,
"We just don't understand."
"What changed its' worth?"
Swift came the reply.
"The Touch of the Masters Hand."

"And many a man with life out of tune
All battered and bruised with hardship
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd
Much like that old violin

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on.
He is going once, he is going twice,
He is going and almost gone.

But the Master comes,
And the foolish crowd never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the Touch of the Masters' Hand.

-- Myra Brooks Welch