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arcady · Page Arcady , Space and Dust Posting as marcella

The Song of the Happy Shepherd BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 1886 The woods of Arcady are dead, And over is their antique joy; Of old the world on dreaming fed; Grey Truth is now her painted toy; Yet still she turns her restless head: But O, sick children of the world, Of all the many changing things In dreary dancing past us whirled, To the cracked tune that Chronos sings, Words alone are certain good. Where are now the warring kings, Word be-mockers? — By the Rood Where are now the warring kings? An idle word is now their glory, By the stammering schoolboy said, Reading some entangled story: The kings of the old time are dead; The wandering earth herself may be Only a sudden flaming word, In clanging space a moment heard, Troubling the endless reverie. Then nowise worship dusty deeds, Nor seek, for this is also sooth, To hunger fiercely after truth, Lest all thy toiling only breeds New dreams, new dreams; there is no truth Saving in thine own heart. Seek, then, No learning from the starry men, Who follow with the optic glass The whirling ways of stars that pass — Seek, then, for this is also sooth, No word of theirs — the cold star-bane Has cloven and rent their hearts in twain, And dead is all their human truth. Go gather by the humming sea Some twisted, echo-harbouring shell, And to its lips thy story tell, And they thy comforters will be, Rewarding in melodious guile Thy fretful words a little while, Till they shall singing fade in ruth And die a pearly brotherhood; For words alone are certain good: Sing, then, for this is also sooth. I must be gone: there is a grave Where daffodil and lily wave, And I would please the hapless faun, Buried under the sleepy ground, With mirthful songs before the dawn. His shouting days with mirth were crowned; And still I dream he treads the lawn, Walking ghostly in the dew, Pierced by my glad singing through, My songs of old earth's dreamy youth: But ah! she dreams not now; dream thou! For fair are poppies on the brow: Dream, dream, for this is also sooth.

Arcady , Space and Dust The woods of Arcady are dead and over is their antique song a cloud of gas , a nebula a nursery of stars H , haitch EE , and scattered dust one particle attracts another - they collide seven minutes - is it long ? a slice of all eternity A quarry in Bavaria was once a salty pond what fell in it ? a cat-size dinosaur another here - oh look ! this one has feathers - oops ! long pinions from its spindly finger and all along its tail : - the Archeopteryx , the ancient bird , this fallen angel flat , its splat and wondrous fronds a leaping through a door Oh plumey Death ! oh wicked tadpole child A split of rock reveals this print of bones and feathers , how is it that Darwin’s proof looks so much like a miracle ? A messenger of gods . She flies above the warring tides where the lumbering armies clash with spikes that tear and teeth that gash the scaley armour of their backs The ancient bird with angel wings flies to the sun and does not fall . Below , the ancient warring kings both die, the end to all their glory , red the swamp , their fate is gory , what remains is broken trees and fleeting stains . Their battle adding to the pages of the carbon Book of Ages A speck of dust afar away is ionised by a cosmic ray and in this”Plus”state pulls reverse speck across the Universe Two specks , some more and they’ll become a grain. and gather in apace and in this way , in cloud afar a speck , two specks , become a star . Crushing itself within its spin the H becoming Helium and round this star , the dust congeals and flattens into spinning wheels then clumping up , becoming worlds some hot some cold but one blest mild and water-drenched will generate a form of slime which by a slow unsteady climb lifts up itself and takes to flight I must be gone , there is a grave Where daffodil and lily wave . Beside the grave there is a pond half heated by the nearest sun and in the soft Arcadian dawn across the pond a ripple stirs the flatness and a fishy snout breaks surface and across the lawn a creature crawls , its proto-lung is sucking in the morning air It gulps it down , its eyes rotate , The first terrestial vertebrate . Its jaws close on a gnat And we are stardust - what are we ? FROM stars - OF stars - TO stars - we For there is nothing Else to be The woods of Arcady are over here Their antique joy lies spread around the hapless faun is underground birds sing above his rotting corpse it took a while , she lost her teeth and learned to sing and now I flit , a humble linnet . Is this Space cold ? It may be , but we’re living in it The woods of Arcady are dead and over is their antique song a cloud of gas , a nebula a nursery of stars   H , haitch EE , and scattered dust   one particle attracts another - they collide   seven minutes - is it long ?   a slice of all eternity   A quarry in Bavaria was once a salty pond   what fell in it ?   a cat-size dinosaur another here - oh look ! this one has feathers - oops ! long pinions from its spindly finger and all along its tail :  - the Archeopteryx , the ancient bird , this fallen angel flat , its splat and wondrous fronds a leaping through a door Oh plumey Death ! oh wicked tadpole child A split of rock reveals this print of bones and feathers , how is it that Darwin’s proof looks so much like a miracle ? A messenger of gods . She flies above the warring tides where the lumbering armies clash with spikes that tear and teeth that gash the scaley armour of their backs The ancient bird with angel wings flies to the sun and does not fall . Below , the ancient warring kings both die, the end to all their glory , red the swamp , their fate is gory , what remains is broken trees and fleeting stains . Their battle adding to the pages of the carbon Book of Ages A speck of dust afar away is ionised by a cosmic ray and in this”Plus”state pulls reverse speck across the Universe Two specks , some more and they’ll become a grain. and gather in apace and in this way , in cloud afar a speck , two specks , become a star . Crushing itself within its spin the H becoming Helium and round this star , the dust congeals and flattens into spinning wheels then clumping up , becoming worlds some hot some cold but one blest mild and water-drenched will generate a form of slime which by a slow unsteady climb lifts up itself and takes to flight I must be gone , there is a grave Where daffodil and lily wave . Beside the grave there is a pond half heated by the nearest sun and in the soft Arcadian dawn across the pond a ripple stirs the flatness and a fishy snout breaks surface and across the lawn a creature crawls , its proto-lung is sucking in the morning air It gulps it down , its eyes rotate , The first terrestial vertebrate . Its jaws close on a gnat And we are stardust - what are we ? FROM stars - OF stars - TO stars - we  For there is nothing Else to be The woods of Arcady are over here Their antique joy lies spread around the hapless faun is underground birds sing above his rotting corpse it took a while , she lost her teeth and learned to sing and now I flit , a humble linnet . Is this Space cold ?  It may be , but we’re living in it

Anita Greg , May 2016  anitagreg@gmail.com

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