WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
![The Shield of Achilles -- Auden [emphasis added]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/shieldtop-150x150.jpg "The Shield of Achilles -- Auden [emphasis added]")
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2001-2022
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
by Shel Silverstein
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
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Say not the struggle naught availeth…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLUpP9UIlmI
A suitable homily for today.
Alas far too many are willing to give up living to keep from dying and hence are antiseptic babies.
Strictly Germ-Proof
Arthur Guiterman
The Antiseptic Baby and the Prophylactic Pup
Were playing in the garden when the Bunny gambolled up;
They looked upon the creature with a loathing undisguised;
It wasn’t disinfected and it wasn’t sterilised.
They said it was microbic and a hotbed of disease;
They steamed it in a vapor of a thousand-odd degrees;
They froze it in a freezer that was cold as banished hope
And washed it in permanganate with carbolated soap.
In sulphurated hydrogen they steeped its wiggly ears;
They trimmed its frisky whiskers with a pair of hard-boiled shears;
They donned their rubber mittens and they took it by the hand
And ’lected it a member of the Fumigated Band.
There’s not a micrococcus in the garden where they play;
They bathe in pure iodoform a dozen times a day;
And each imbibes his rations from a hygienic cup —
The Bunny and The Baby and The Prophylactic Pup.
Loved that. Was it his own voice?
Thank you.
Frost’s home final home was in Derry NH.
The farm is right around the corner from our home.
Mr. Frost wrote a poem about the tree at his window.
Tree at my window
Time went on and the tree continued past Mr. Frost.
The town was worried that the tree would die, fall and destroy a famous landmark.
So the “Conservation Commission” in town decided to take the tree down.
Bids were requested and reviewed.
The winning bidder was granted the rights to the wood.
The tree was successfully dropped, away from the window.
The farm was saved.
The guys who won the bid, built hot shit Audi’s and carved wood.
They sectioned that tree up, sold a bunch of it to “Historical Societies” and carved the rest into figurines.
I have one.
It looks like the tree outside my window.
“Live Free or Die”
C