tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6083949196414020302024-03-05T01:43:57.775-08:00Rediscovered BlogStaff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.comBlogger142125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-80017239644710720032010-06-13T15:04:00.000-07:002010-06-13T15:04:08.592-07:00Living Green and ThriftyHi there. Shellie here on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, getting ready to blog. I had a phone call recently from a good friend in California (my home state). She and her husband are trying to tame their budget but value living as environmentally friendly as possible. I've found our family in a similar boat. Sometimes it seems difficult to live frugally and maintain that standard of environmental awareness.<br />
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Fortunately, I've been reading over a couple books that tackle this very subject. I was pleased to see that we had already made some of the shifts that the books call for (cooking at home, buying in bulk, making our own green cleaners). But it was nice to get more ideas. Here are the titles that I have been using and will pass along to my friend as she starts her "living frugally green" journey.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpB6GAdHybP0lo7Fb_LET-NxUh0-hx7a2OiH50nmT6hnB8-H6T03pg9tXNqdFq3-Hpt4js0ELZHxYlWYYHutVYcWJjxpOHsCAmUvLBTwT9uX7VXm9OTsMCoNfPj2N9aVtLRNfGyTBlxqF/s1600/be+thrifty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpB6GAdHybP0lo7Fb_LET-NxUh0-hx7a2OiH50nmT6hnB8-H6T03pg9tXNqdFq3-Hpt4js0ELZHxYlWYYHutVYcWJjxpOHsCAmUvLBTwT9uX7VXm9OTsMCoNfPj2N9aVtLRNfGyTBlxqF/s320/be+thrifty.jpg" /></a></div><strong>Be Thrifty: How to Live Better with Less</strong> <strong>by Pia Catton and Califia Suntree </strong>This book is a great go-to guide with a little bit of everything. It has great simple recipes for both entertaining company or just packing a healthy lunch. It also has easy recipes for making your own green household cleaners that cost next to nothing. This book is wonderfully comprehensive and will get you on the path to living better on less!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kL53krHdsB374Ejy70cbOFcGh8V11O7Nu-dkKc_CD-mwkQKXPRubhfMKIl4ThStIuyfZ9L078COlaTIe0XeBhL35wlAl-Y3RDNMGJwkfHHqbNMlHAAtwYiIGi-N6waemuZveMQxVuFN_/s1600/shift+your+habit+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kL53krHdsB374Ejy70cbOFcGh8V11O7Nu-dkKc_CD-mwkQKXPRubhfMKIl4ThStIuyfZ9L078COlaTIe0XeBhL35wlAl-Y3RDNMGJwkfHHqbNMlHAAtwYiIGi-N6waemuZveMQxVuFN_/s320/shift+your+habit+2.jpg" /></a></div><strong>Shift Your Habit by Elizabeth Rogers </strong>This book is interesting because the author actually recruited real families to make shifts in their living and spending habits. She includes their stories throughout the book. Her chapters include: Home and Garden, Kids, Pets, Work and many more. It's also very helpful that she shows you how much you save per year with each "shift". <br />
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I loved the "Be Your Own Barista" tip. Coffee chain cappuccinos were one of the first things that I gave up when we started watching our budget. How thrilled was I to see that we are saving hundred of dollars a year by this simple change? I totally gave myself a pat on the back!<br />
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Hope these are as helpful to you as they were to me. I know for sure that I will be referencing both titles in the months to come. <br />
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We have an awesome section in the store called: <strong>Sustainable Living</strong> and it's filled with enviromentally friendly titles. Come by and check it out!Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-35781926178760286152010-05-30T14:24:00.000-07:002010-05-30T14:40:32.902-07:00Books that wanderHello. Shellie here. I hope that everyone is having a glorious weekend. It sure is pretty outside! Although, I have so much yardwork waiting for me tomorrow...well, let's just say I'm glad that I get a quiet day indoors today. <br />
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Have any of you ever noticed that when you call the bookstore to ask about a particular book, we will typically ask you to hold on while we physically find the book and hold it in our hands? Are we eccentric? <em>Well, sure</em>. But we're practical, as well.<br />
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You see, the books around here, they wander off. Wally has likened them to socks in the dryer. It's happened to us on more than one occasion. A book will be pop up in our inventory as being "in-store" and then upon investigation--no book! <br />
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Where do they go? Do they have a favorite hiding place? It's a mystery. I like to imagine that perhaps they enjoy getting lost and found...a little like hide-and-seek.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMBpr7JeocL36skeorBkiHk3Kz4IrlMSO4sx-cO5RVqh0rl-cmo8ZNimKkS7Ehdu5Mcip2SgGOdtnJ5uWS3qr4PMzwL0vbh0OeAyDzs0Ms5LACEo4TZhql7ocTEwC956Y9J4N9jPm7VUg/s1600/smitten.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiMBpr7JeocL36skeorBkiHk3Kz4IrlMSO4sx-cO5RVqh0rl-cmo8ZNimKkS7Ehdu5Mcip2SgGOdtnJ5uWS3qr4PMzwL0vbh0OeAyDzs0Ms5LACEo4TZhql7ocTEwC956Y9J4N9jPm7VUg/s320/smitten.jpg" /></a></div>Speaking of socks in the dryer, all of this reminds me of a wonderful picture book that we have called <strong>Smitten by: David Gordon</strong>. It's the wonderful love story of a sock and a mitten. Hope you love it as much as we do!Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-87432349861808861822010-05-23T13:54:00.000-07:002010-05-23T13:54:53.117-07:00The weekly conversationHello everybody. It's Shellie and it's time for my Sunday blog. I heard through the grapevine that I actually have people <em>reading</em> this. This is so exciting for me! I thought I was just whistling in the dark every Sunday. But let's get down to business, shall we?<br />
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In our house, usually around 5:30pm but sometimes as late as 6:00pm, there is a conversation that regularly occurs between me and my husband. It goes thusly:<br />
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Me (with a heavy sigh): What sounds good for dinner?<br />
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Husband (with an equally heavy sigh): I don't know, what sounds good to you?<br />
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Me: Well, what do we <em>have</em>?<br />
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Husband: I don't know. Check the pantry.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">At this point, our children start circling us like hungry wolves howling their chorus of: "Mom, I'm hungry! What can we eat? How long until dinner?"</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2KjaJoFNVr15UPVk50xSHf38pskr425R4GqXmaH17XVjwBYEJz8gMVe2gORi6MvZStwOS-my2C849a7sCB6WngjgqqBgl4xbqRG8m0_K_EqsbjIt-E93sSWuLa_1Wfvvmy8iJU8J4xZF/s1600/six+oclock+scramble.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2KjaJoFNVr15UPVk50xSHf38pskr425R4GqXmaH17XVjwBYEJz8gMVe2gORi6MvZStwOS-my2C849a7sCB6WngjgqqBgl4xbqRG8m0_K_EqsbjIt-E93sSWuLa_1Wfvvmy8iJU8J4xZF/s320/six+oclock+scramble.jpg" /></a>Enter the book that I am absolutely fascinated with this week: <strong>SOS! The Six O'Clock Scramble to the Rescue: Earth-Friendly, Kid-Pleasing Dinners for Busy Families By Aviva Goldfarb</strong>.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">There is a lot to love about this book. First of all, the recipes are both reasonably quick to make and healthy. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I <em>love</em> that the recipes are separated by season! This makes them both economical (it's cheaper to buy in-season) and earth friendly (you are more likely to find your fruit and veggies at a local farmer's market).</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Lastly, this book has a wide assortment for vegetarians (like yours truly) and non-vegetarians alike. I love the fact that the recipes are delicious and have a touches of global cuisine, for example: Greek Pasta Salad, Tandoori Chicken and Huevos Rancheros. But they are still simple enough for the beginnner.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I think this would make a wonderful present for the harried mom (or dad) you know and love. Who knows? They may be so grateful, they may even cook for you! Have a great week!</div>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-30672158008161495412010-05-16T12:14:00.000-07:002010-05-16T12:14:25.847-07:00Brontë Sisters Power Dolls<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-NKXNThJ610&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-NKXNThJ610&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-90949796031482160732010-05-09T16:17:00.000-07:002010-05-09T16:17:10.831-07:00TransitionsHello there everyone! It's Shellie and it's time for my Sunday blog. <br />
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Lately, I've been trying to transition our two older boys from our usual picture book stories to beginner chapter books. I've found that the best "transition chapter books" are a good combination of pictures and text. It gives our boys a break from just reading and gives them something to look at. If you have a child in your life who is on the verge of making the leap from picture books to chapter books, here are some good ones we have at the store.<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjig7xxwUvFDwolM3agotttnuM6Kni4_x_OehmnyKrvwRygwlEFIBQNu-r28WL_ht-iN94xEsiiW9PUP43LTvI7geqzjCjsQx8xdoi9D-kcSjVoRs0ahu_-fiNfhftD-Yg8qPh9DBJXMXBN/s1600/mercy+watson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjig7xxwUvFDwolM3agotttnuM6Kni4_x_OehmnyKrvwRygwlEFIBQNu-r28WL_ht-iN94xEsiiW9PUP43LTvI7geqzjCjsQx8xdoi9D-kcSjVoRs0ahu_-fiNfhftD-Yg8qPh9DBJXMXBN/s200/mercy+watson.jpg" tt="true" width="149" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>Mercy Watson to the Rescue by Kate DiCamillo</strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>Who is Mercy Watson? A pig, of course! She has all sorts of fun adventures in her stories. The chapters are short and the pictures are darling. Kids just love these!<br />
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<strong>Ivy and Bean by Annie Barrows and Sophie Blackall</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHdHGmKlPEanTdpICGHJnAZpIqApioxF0QPcI2BBR8yIDD2fDbZMMmnnTOvjya8p8kimgi6pkUgBL5grbIwnYFdAnHScu9XijvmQoJeLpMX018DltCbnkBr_zV6W_Ee2TnurTTKsUuqiJ/s1600/ivyandbean.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnHdHGmKlPEanTdpICGHJnAZpIqApioxF0QPcI2BBR8yIDD2fDbZMMmnnTOvjya8p8kimgi6pkUgBL5grbIwnYFdAnHScu9XijvmQoJeLpMX018DltCbnkBr_zV6W_Ee2TnurTTKsUuqiJ/s320/ivyandbean.jpg" tt="true" /></a></div>This series is all about two little girls who are best friends. They have a lot of fun trying to break world records and ghost hunting. The chapters are a little bit longer than the Mercy Watson series, but not so much as to overwhelm young readers. Plenty of pictures, too!<br />
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<strong>A Nest for Celeste by Henry Cole</strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_zycR0Se6aZ9at2IKW9MwqoeOa6-Q8gg6ltALR6tP2hW4rv5xGho59gxXfu5I3XcRNB5U5rYAmbtO_O216Gwh7Y6gj8O3B2h2wHeL9AaK5fZeIofpsjXkPGHNdnd6AgSmM_Sgbg7Z0d_/s1600/nest+for+celeste.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK_zycR0Se6aZ9at2IKW9MwqoeOa6-Q8gg6ltALR6tP2hW4rv5xGho59gxXfu5I3XcRNB5U5rYAmbtO_O216Gwh7Y6gj8O3B2h2wHeL9AaK5fZeIofpsjXkPGHNdnd6AgSmM_Sgbg7Z0d_/s200/nest+for+celeste.jpg" tt="true" width="151" /></a></div>This a sweet little book about a mouse who loves to weave baskets...but she has to watch out for the sneaky cat of her house. Beautiful illustrations, my kindergartener loves this one!Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-42750151418084816702010-05-02T15:24:00.000-07:002010-05-02T15:24:45.977-07:00The wheat from the chaffHello everyone,<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu1Opink91MJwo7L8lyOzKp04hrObPgRp1nNLZqPjxh_SbKJCTlrHjAGqyvlenRp5DeLdvO9-JiY4-A4eVya5HM9ZHNVZsVz699VLQo3M0T13P_5uy1YfldCTWWjMyoCJ32pf4Pb4GBSu1/s1600/wiveshenryoades.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu1Opink91MJwo7L8lyOzKp04hrObPgRp1nNLZqPjxh_SbKJCTlrHjAGqyvlenRp5DeLdvO9-JiY4-A4eVya5HM9ZHNVZsVz699VLQo3M0T13P_5uy1YfldCTWWjMyoCJ32pf4Pb4GBSu1/s200/wiveshenryoades.jpg" tt="true" width="129" /></a>It's Shellie here posting today. If I haven't met you yet, I'm the bookshop's newest bookseller. I'm writing to tell you today about how dilligently we try to pick out the best possible new titles for the store. I think it's safe to say that we are all voracious readers here and we happily attack our stack of ARCs (Advanced Reader Copies) that we get from publishers on a regular basis. It has been my delight to discover an author's debut novel and get it into the store for our customers to enjoy--specifically, <strong>The Wives of Henry Oades by Johanna Moran</strong>. This book was wonderful!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But let me tell you, folks. It's not always a walk in the park. I recently read an ARC that was so poorly written. It was only because I am an absolute sucker for Tudor-era England that I stuck through to the end. What was the major issue, you ask? It was the narrator's constant battle with her own stomach acids! At every turn, the protagonist was either "feeling the bile come up into her throat", "combatting waves of nausea", or "swallowing the sickness that rose up inside her". </div><br />
As Wally aptly said: "Somebody get that woman an antacid!". <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Now, I understand that during Henry VIII's reign many perfectly disgusting things were done that would certainly make a modern person cringe. But to read--page after page--of this character's urpy exploits...Well, it was a little much for me.<br />
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But you know, it's all part of the job. We separate the wheat from the chaff--always keeping our beloved customers in mind and thinking of what you will like best. Happy reading!Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-20944231266728211602010-04-24T10:00:00.000-07:002010-04-24T10:00:08.184-07:00Answer to April 23rd Poetry Challenge- Final Poem of the Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000020;">So, this is our last Poetry Challenge answer. We will be announcing the raffle winners at our Open Mic Poetry Reading, which will be taking place tonight, April 24th, at 6pm. Come in and read a poem or just listen. Hope to see you all there.<br />
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Kubla Khan </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000020;">by Samuel Taylor Coleridge<br />
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<table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr><td>I<span>N</span> Xanadu did Kubla Khan</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="1"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> A stately pleasure-dome decree:</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="2"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Where Alph, the sacred river, ran</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="3"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Through caverns measureless to man</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="4"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Down to a sunless sea.</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="5"><i> 5</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> So twice five miles of fertile ground</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="6"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> With walls and towers were girdled round:</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="7"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="8"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree;</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="9"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And here were forests ancient as the hills,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="10"><i> 10</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="11"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>But O, that deep romantic chasm which slanted</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="12"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="13"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>A savage place! as holy and enchanted</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="14"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="15"><i> 15</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>By woman wailing for her demon-lover!</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="16"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="17"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="18"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>A mighty fountain momently was forced;</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="19"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="20"><i> 20</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="21"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="22"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="23"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>It flung up momently the sacred river.</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="24"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Five miles meandering with a mazy motion</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="25"><i> 25</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="26"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Then reach'd the caverns measureless to man,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="27"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="28"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="29"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Ancestral voices prophesying war!</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="30"><i> 30</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td> The shadow of the dome of pleasure</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="31"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Floated midway on the waves;</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="32"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Where was heard the mingled measure</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="33"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> From the fountain and the caves.</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="34"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>It was a miracle of rare device,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="35"><i> 35</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="36"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td> A damsel with a dulcimer</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="37"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> In a vision once I saw:</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="38"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> It was an Abyssinian maid,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="39"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> And on her dulcimer she play'd,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="40"><i> 40</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Singing of Mount Abora.</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="41"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Could I revive within me,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="42"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> Her symphony and song,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="43"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>To such a deep delight 'twould win me,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="44"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>That with music loud and long,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="45"><i> 45</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>I would build that dome in air,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="46"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>That sunny dome! those caves of ice!</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="47"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And all who heard should see them there,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="48"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And all should cry, Beware! Beware!</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="49"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>His flashing eyes, his floating hair!</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="50"><i> 50</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Weave a circle round him thrice,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="51"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> And close your eyes with holy dread,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="52"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> For he on honey-dew hath fed,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="53"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And drunk the milk of Paradise.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-50989447920358659042010-04-23T10:46:00.000-07:002010-04-23T10:46:15.397-07:00Answer to April 22nd Challenge<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #000020;"></span><br />
<table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
<tr><td>173. She Walks in Beauty, Like the Night<br />
by Lord Byron<br />
<br />
S<span>HE</span> walks in beauty, like the night</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="1"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Of cloudless climes and starry skies,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="2"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And all that's best of dark and bright</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="3"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Meets in her aspect and her eyes;</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="4"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Thus mellow'd to that tender light</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="" name="5"><i> 5</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="6"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>One shade the more, one ray the less,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="7"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Had half impair'd the nameless grace</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="8"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Which waves in every raven tress</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="9"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Or softly lightens o'er her face,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="10"><i> 10</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Where thoughts serenely sweet express</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="11"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="12"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>And on that cheek and o'er that brow</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="13"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="14"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>The smiles that win, the tints that glow,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="15"><i> 15</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>But tell of days in goodness spent,—</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="16"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>A mind at peace with all below,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="" name="17"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>A heart whose love is innocent.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-53156893897414379052010-04-22T10:24:00.001-07:002010-04-22T16:34:59.750-07:00Answer to April 21st Challenge<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Verdana, Calibri, serif;"></span><br />
<ul><h2 style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, Calibri, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 20px; font-variant: small-caps;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal;">Ozymandias</span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: 12px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal;">by Percy Bysshe Shelley</span></h2><ul><span style="font-family: Verdana, Calibri, Geneva, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;"> </span></ul>I met a traveler from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed; And on the pedestal these words appear: “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.</ul>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-63617798934091012652010-04-21T09:07:00.000-07:002010-04-21T09:07:07.076-07:00Answer for April 20th ChallengeStars<br />
by Emily Bronte<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: verdana, Arial, Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Ah! why, because the dazzling sun<br />
Restored our Earth to joy,<br />
Have you departed, every one,<br />
And left a desert sky?<br />
<br />
All through the night, your glorious eyes<br />
Were gazing down in mine,<br />
And, with a full heart's thankful sighs,<br />
I blessed that watch divine.<br />
<br />
I was at peace, and drank your beams<br />
As they were life to me;<br />
And revelled in my changeful dreams,<br />
Like petrel on the sea.<br />
<br />
Thought followed thought, star followed star,<br />
Through boundless regions, on;<br />
While one sweet influence, near and far,<br />
Thrilled through, and proved us one!<br />
<br />
Why did the morning dawn to break<br />
So great, so pure, a spell;<br />
And scorch with fire the tranquil cheek,<br />
Where your cool radiance fell?<br />
<br />
Blood-red, he rose, and, arrow-straight,<br />
His fierce beams struck my brow;<br />
The soul of nature sprang, elate,<br />
But mine sank sad and low!<br />
<br />
My lids closed down, yet through their veil<br />
I saw him, blazing, still,<br />
And steep in gold the misty dale,<br />
And flash upon the hill.<br />
<br />
I turned me to the pillow, then,<br />
To call back night, and see<br />
Your worlds of solemn light, again,<br />
Throb with my heart, and me!<br />
<br />
It would not do--the pillow glowed,<br />
And glowed both roof and floor;<br />
And birds sang loudly in the wood,<br />
And fresh winds shook the door;<br />
<br />
The curtains waved, the wakened flies<br />
Were murmuring round my room,<br />
Imprisoned there, till I should rise,<br />
And give them leave to roam.<br />
<br />
Oh, stars, and dreams, and gentle night;<br />
Oh, night and stars, return!<br />
And hide me from the hostile light<br />
That does not warm, but burn;<br />
<br />
That drains the blood of suffering men;<br />
Drinks tears, instead of dew;<br />
Let me sleep through his blinding reign,<br />
And only wake with you!</span>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-6642900686014284032010-04-20T06:53:00.000-07:002010-04-20T06:53:01.890-07:00April 19th AnswerBrown Penny<br />
by William Butler Yeats<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="table23"><tbody>
<tr><td style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; width: 524px;" valign="top"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px;">I whispered, 'I am too young,'<br />
And then, 'I am old enough';<br />
Wherefore I threw a penny<br />
To find out if I might love.<br />
'Go and love, go and love, young man,<br />
If the lady be young and fair.'<br />
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,<br />
I am looped in the loops of her hair.<br />
O love is the crooked thing,<br />
There is nobody wise enough<br />
To find out all that is in it,<br />
For he would be thinking of love<br />
Till the stars had run away<br />
And the shadows eaten the moon.<br />
Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny,<br />
One cannot begin it too soon. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-12425440000050023772010-04-19T13:38:00.000-07:002010-04-19T13:51:14.307-07:00Answer for April 18th ChallengeRed, Red Rose <br />
by Robert Burns<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh my luve is like a red, red rose, <br />
That's newly sprung in June: <br />
Oh my luve is like the melodie, <br />
That's sweetly play'd in tune. <br />
<br />
As fair art thou, my bonie lass, <br />
So deep in luve am I; <br />
And I will luve thee still, my dear, <br />
Till a' the seas gang dry. <br />
<br />
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, <br />
And the rocks melt wi' the sun; <br />
And I will luve thee still, my dear, <br />
While the sands o' life shall run. <br />
<br />
And fare thee weel, my only luve! <br />
And fare thee weel a while! <br />
And I will come again, my luve, <br />
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-86356019228798911812010-04-18T15:49:00.000-07:002010-04-21T12:36:57.026-07:00Spring has Sprung!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLwGBlAn2ZKhrEeSuZb5HGa43LyvqYZuNG3MlmDCTFMnP4BQaiLTBqTX9O39a_bX2J6Zogvoej2YlO3IzJlr1Wb0vhlbKG8OvaWVqOCTDyqmJjBEO3wX_NVfFXgNqKwUMYIfRLa3dh-XR/s1600/gardener.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLwGBlAn2ZKhrEeSuZb5HGa43LyvqYZuNG3MlmDCTFMnP4BQaiLTBqTX9O39a_bX2J6Zogvoej2YlO3IzJlr1Wb0vhlbKG8OvaWVqOCTDyqmJjBEO3wX_NVfFXgNqKwUMYIfRLa3dh-XR/s1600/gardener.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLwGBlAn2ZKhrEeSuZb5HGa43LyvqYZuNG3MlmDCTFMnP4BQaiLTBqTX9O39a_bX2J6Zogvoej2YlO3IzJlr1Wb0vhlbKG8OvaWVqOCTDyqmJjBEO3wX_NVfFXgNqKwUMYIfRLa3dh-XR/s200/gardener.jpg" width="140" /></a></div><br />
Have you been outside this weekend? Taking the time to smell the flowers? Spring has sprung at the bookshop, too! Come and check out all our fabulous books to help you start your garden this year. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><strong><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1347001256"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Square Foot gardening by Mel Bartholomew</span></a></strong> is a great book for beginners wanting to maximize their growing space.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"><br />
</span></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5JKTdwxVkiuStsqon-9HAB3vgT213c-XvDlmdfodTHwNegYq21xZ7Ubd3thdoOwzL1Z42h5OUaIQCpzzfpa5kHzZ0iwOWX5sY1wGTwvyX3a-rYVqCECdz7E7t1GuTkGxgxN_S65J3t3B/s1600/selfsufficient.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD5JKTdwxVkiuStsqon-9HAB3vgT213c-XvDlmdfodTHwNegYq21xZ7Ubd3thdoOwzL1Z42h5OUaIQCpzzfpa5kHzZ0iwOWX5sY1wGTwvyX3a-rYVqCECdz7E7t1GuTkGxgxN_S65J3t3B/s200/selfsufficient.jpg" width="155" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;"></span><br />
Thinking of living more self-sufficiently? Check out <strong>The New Self-Sufficient Gardener by John Seymour</strong>. It's chock-full of ways to make the most of your crops and save them through the winter.<br />
<br />
If you have a friend with a birthday coming soon, we have beautiful cards by a <strong>local photographer</strong>, <strong>Alyson Sickels</strong>. The flowers seem to just jump off the card with their vibrant colors!<br />
<br />
And don't forget to flock to our "Birds of a Feather" table. Let's just say that if you like birds, this is the table for you.<br />
<br />
Hope that you all enjoyed the sunshine. Take the time to smell the daffodils and grape hyacinths--the roses are a few more months away!Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-51306304377335412932010-04-18T11:01:00.000-07:002010-04-18T11:01:02.651-07:00Answer fro April 17th Poem Challenge<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 21px;"></span><br />
<div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;">The Daffodils by William Wordsworth</div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;">**fun fact: this poem was based off of a journal entry made by Wordsworth's wife from which the poet took two lines that he considered to be the best: "They flash upon that inward eye/ </div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;">Which is the bliss of solitude**</div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;">I wandered lonely as a cloud<br />
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,<br />
When all at once I saw a crowd,<br />
A host, of dancing daffodils;<br />
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br />
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. </div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;">The waves beside them danced; but they<br />
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:<br />
A poet could not but be gay,<br />
In such laughing company:<br />
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought<br />
What wealth the show to me had brought:</div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;">For oft, when on my couch I lie<br />
In vacant or in pensive mood,<br />
They flash upon that inward eye<br />
Which is the bliss of solitude;<br />
And then my heart with pleasure fills,<br />
And dances with the daffodils.</div>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-28235083135667936252010-04-17T08:54:00.000-07:002010-04-17T08:54:20.684-07:00Answer to Poem of the Day challenge for April 16thIF by Rudyard Kipling<br />
<br />
If you can keep your head when all about you<br />
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,<br />
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you<br />
But make allowance for their doubting too,<br />
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,<br />
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,<br />
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,<br />
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:<br />
<br />
If you can dream–and not make dreams your master,<br />
If you can think–and not make thoughts your aim;<br />
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster<br />
And treat those two impostors just the same;<br />
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken<br />
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,<br />
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,<br />
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:<br />
<br />
If you can make one heap of all your winnings<br />
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,<br />
And lose, and start again at your beginnings<br />
And never breath a word about your loss;<br />
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew<br />
To serve your turn long after they are gone,<br />
And so hold on when there is nothing in you<br />
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”<br />
<br />
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,<br />
Or walk with kings–nor lose the common touch,<br />
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;<br />
If all men count with you, but none too much,<br />
If you can fill the unforgiving minute<br />
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,<br />
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,<br />
And–which is more–you’ll be a Man, my son!Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-78767339727783211252010-04-16T09:13:00.000-07:002010-04-16T09:13:13.318-07:00Answer to April 15th Poetry Challenge<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #050505; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">A Girl</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #050505; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">by Ezra Pound (Idaho Native)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #050505; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #050505; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">The tree has entered my hands,<br />
The sap has ascended my arms,<br />
The tree has grown in my breast -<br />
Downward,<br />
The branches grow out of me, like arms.<br />
<br />
Tree you are,<br />
Moss you are,<br />
You are violets with wind above them.<br />
A child - so high - you are,<br />
And all this is folly to the world.</span>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-25042213826160802242010-04-15T18:43:00.001-07:002010-04-15T18:43:33.520-07:00Answer to April 14th ChallengeLove is Not All<br />
by Edna St. Vincent Milay<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" id="table23"><tbody>
<tr><td style="font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; width: 523px;" valign="top"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px;">Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink<br />
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;<br />
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink<br />
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;<br />
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,<br />
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;<br />
Yet many a man is making friends with death<br />
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.<br />
It well may be that in a difficult hour,<br />
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,<br />
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,<br />
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,<br />
Or trade the memory of this night for food.<br />
It well may be. I do not think I would</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-46533476095337287782010-04-14T10:18:00.000-07:002010-04-14T10:19:08.008-07:00Answer for April 13th ChallengeThe New Colossus <br />
by Emma Lazarus, New York City, 1883 <br />
<br />
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame<br />
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;<br />
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand<br />
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame<br />
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name<br />
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand<br />
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command <br />
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,<br />
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she<br />
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,<br />
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,<br />
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,<br />
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,<br />
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-10175840843607877102010-04-13T07:07:00.000-07:002010-04-13T07:07:18.477-07:00Answer to April 12th Challenge<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Georgia, 'Book Antiqua';"></span><br />
<center><span>A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.</span><br />
by John Donne</center><br />
A<span>S</span> virtuous men pass mildly away, <br />
And whisper to their souls to go, <br />
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,<br />
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No." <br />
So let us melt, and make no noise, <span>5</span><br />
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;<br />
'Twere profanation of our joys <br />
To tell the laity our love.<br />
Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;<br />
Men reckon what it did, and meant ; <span>10</span><br />
But trepidation of the spheres, <br />
Though greater far, is innocent.<br />
Dull sublunary lovers' love <br />
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit <br />
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove <span>15</span><br />
The thing which elemented it.<br />
But we by a love so much refined,<br />
That ourselves know not what it is, <br />
Inter-assurèd of the mind, <br />
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss. <span>20</span><br />
Our two souls therefore, which are one, <br />
Though I must go, endure not yet <br />
A breach, but an expansion, <br />
Like gold to aery thinness beat.<br />
If they be two, they are two so <span>25</span><br />
As stiff twin compasses are two ; <br />
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show <br />
To move, but doth, if th' other do.<br />
And though it in the centre sit, <br />
Yet, when the other far doth roam, <span>30</span><br />
It leans, and hearkens after it, <br />
And grows erect, as that comes home.<br />
Such wilt thou be to me, who must,<br />
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;<br />
Thy firmness makes my circle just, <span>35</span><br />
And makes me end where I begun.Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-84288300533912230942010-04-12T14:23:00.001-07:002010-04-12T14:23:30.078-07:00Poem Answer for April 11thSONNET 18 by Willian Shakespeare<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? <br />
<br />
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:<br />
<br />
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,<br />
<br />
And summer's lease hath all too short a date: <br />
<br />
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,<br />
<br />
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; <br />
<br />
And every fair from fair sometime declines,<br />
<br />
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;<br />
<br />
But thy eternal summer shall not fade<br />
<br />
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;<br />
<br />
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,<br />
<br />
When in eternal lines to time thou growest: <br />
<br />
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,<br />
<br />
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-78984775629438398802010-04-11T14:20:00.000-07:002010-04-12T14:21:46.762-07:00Answer for April 10th ChallengeO Captain, My Captain by Walt Whitman<br />
<br />
<br />
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done,<br />
<br />
<br />
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,<br />
<br />
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,<br />
<br />
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;<br />
<br />
But O heart! heart! heart!<br />
<br />
O the bleeding drops of red,<br />
<br />
Where on the deck my Captain lies,<br />
<br />
Fallen cold and dead.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;<br />
<br />
Rise up--for you the flag is flung for you the bugle trills,<br />
<br />
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths for you the shores a-crowding,<br />
<br />
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;<br />
<br />
Here Captain! dear father!<br />
<br />
This arm beneath your head!<br />
<br />
It is some dream that on the deck,<br />
<br />
You've fallen cold and dead.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;<br />
<br />
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;<br />
<br />
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;<br />
<br />
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;<br />
<br />
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!<br />
<br />
But I, with mournful tread,<br />
<br />
Walk the deck my Captain lies,<br />
<br />
Fallen cold and dead.Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-42602508644750057822010-04-10T14:19:00.000-07:002010-04-12T14:27:41.322-07:00Poem Answer for April 9thThe Bells by Edgar Allen Poe <br />
<br />
I <br />
<br />
<br />
Hear the sledges with the bells - <br />
<br />
Silver bells! <br />
<br />
What a world of merriment their melody foretells! <br />
<br />
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, <br />
<br />
In the icy air of night! <br />
<br />
While the stars that oversprinkle <br />
<br />
All the heavens, seem to twinkle <br />
<br />
With a crystalline delight; <br />
<br />
Keeping time, time, time, <br />
<br />
In a sort of Runic rhyme, <br />
<br />
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells <br />
<br />
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, <br />
<br />
Bells, bells, bells - <br />
<br />
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
II <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hear the mellow wedding bells - <br />
<br />
Golden bells! <br />
<br />
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! <br />
<br />
Through the balmy air of night <br />
<br />
How they ring out their delight! - <br />
<br />
From the molten - golden notes, <br />
<br />
And all in tune, <br />
<br />
What a liquid ditty floats <br />
<br />
To the turtle - dove that listens, while she gloats <br />
<br />
On the moon! <br />
<br />
Oh, from out the sounding cells, <br />
<br />
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! <br />
<br />
How it swells! <br />
<br />
How it dwells <br />
<br />
On the Future! - how it tells <br />
<br />
Of the rapture that impels <br />
<br />
To the swinging and the ringing <br />
<br />
Of the bells, bells, bells - <br />
<br />
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, <br />
<br />
Bells, bells, bells - <br />
<br />
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
III <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hear the loud alarum bells - <br />
<br />
Brazen bells! <br />
<br />
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! <br />
<br />
In the startled ear of night <br />
<br />
How they scream out their affright! <br />
<br />
Too much horrified to speak, <br />
<br />
They can only shriek, shriek, <br />
<br />
Out of tune, <br />
<br />
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, <br />
<br />
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, <br />
<br />
Leaping higher, higher, higher, <br />
<br />
With a desperate desire, <br />
<br />
And a resolute endeavor <br />
<br />
Now - now to sit, or never, <br />
<br />
By the side of the pale - faced moon. <br />
<br />
Oh, the bells, bells, bells! <br />
<br />
What a tale their terror tells <br />
<br />
Of Despair! <br />
<br />
How they clang, and clash and roar! <br />
<br />
What a horror they outpour <br />
<br />
On the bosom of the palpitating air! <br />
<br />
Yet the ear, it fully knows, <br />
<br />
By the twanging, <br />
<br />
And the clanging, <br />
<br />
How the danger ebbs and flows; <br />
<br />
Yet the ear distinctly tells, <br />
<br />
In the jangling, <br />
<br />
And the wrangling, <br />
<br />
How the danger sinks and swells, <br />
<br />
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells - <br />
<br />
Of the bells - <br />
<br />
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, <br />
<br />
Bells, bells, bells - <br />
<br />
In the clamor and the clanging of the bells! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
IV <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Hear the tolling of the bells - <br />
<br />
Iron bells! <br />
<br />
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! <br />
<br />
In the silence of the night, <br />
<br />
How we shiver with affright <br />
<br />
At the melancholy menace of their tone! <br />
<br />
For every sound that floats <br />
<br />
From the rust within their throats <br />
<br />
Is a groan. <br />
<br />
And the people - ah, the people - <br />
<br />
They that dwell up in the steeple, <br />
<br />
All alone, <br />
<br />
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, <br />
<br />
In that muffled monotone, <br />
<br />
Feel a glory in so rolling <br />
<br />
On the human heart a stone - <br />
<br />
They are neither man nor woman - <br />
<br />
They are neither brute nor human - <br />
<br />
They are Ghouls: - <br />
<br />
And their king it is who tolls: - <br />
<br />
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, <br />
<br />
Rolls <br />
<br />
A paean from the bells! <br />
<br />
And his merry bosom swells <br />
<br />
With the paean of the bells! <br />
<br />
And he dances, and he yells; <br />
<br />
Keeping time, time, time, <br />
<br />
In a sort of Runic rhyme, <br />
<br />
To the paean of the bells: - <br />
<br />
Of the bells: <br />
<br />
Keeping time, time, time <br />
<br />
In a sort of Runic rhyme, <br />
<br />
To the throbbing of the bells - <br />
<br />
Of the bells, bells, bells: - <br />
<br />
To the sobbing of the bells: - <br />
<br />
Keeping time, time, time, <br />
<br />
As he knells, knells, knells, <br />
<br />
In a happy Runic rhyme, <br />
<br />
To the rolling of the bells - <br />
<br />
Of the bells, bells, bells - <br />
<br />
To the tolling of the bells - <br />
<br />
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, <br />
<br />
Bells, bells, bells, - <br />
<br />
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-58269363237822162412010-04-09T14:23:00.000-07:002010-04-09T14:23:06.429-07:00Answer for April 8th!<strong>i carry your heart with me</strong><br />
by e e cummings<br />
<br />
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in<br />
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere<br />
<br />
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done<br />
<br />
by only me is your doing,my darling)<br />
<br />
i fear<br />
<br />
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want<br />
<br />
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)<br />
<br />
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant<br />
<br />
and whatever a sun will always sing is you<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
here is the deepest secret nobody knows<br />
<br />
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud<br />
<br />
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows<br />
<br />
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)<br />
<br />
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-38567902445184913752010-04-08T11:36:00.000-07:002010-04-08T11:36:48.555-07:00Yesterday's Answer/today's Poem of the Day!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Do not go gentle into that good night by Dylan Thomas</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; color: #660033;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Do not go gentle into that good night,<br />
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Though wise men at their end know dark is right,<br />
Because their words had forked no lightning they<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright<br />
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,<br />
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight<br />
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">And you, my father, there on the sad height,<br />
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.<br />
Do not go gentle into that good night.<br />
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.</span></span>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-608394919641402030.post-87098593279481883792010-04-07T09:03:00.000-07:002010-04-07T09:03:31.946-07:00Poem of the day answer for the 6th:<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;">I hope you all are having as much fun as I am with this. Yesterday's poem was: <b>The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;">’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves<br />
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;<br />
All mimsy were the borogoves,<br />
And the mome raths outgrabe.<br />
<br />
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!<br />
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!<br />
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun<br />
The frumious Bandersnatch!”<br />
<br />
He took his vorpal sword in hand:<br />
Long time the manxome foe he sought—<br />
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,<br />
And stood awhile in thought.<br />
<br />
And as in uffish thought he stood,<br />
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,<br />
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,<br />
And burbled as it came!<br />
<br />
One, two! One, two! and through and through<br />
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!<br />
He left it dead, and with its head<br />
He went galumphing back.<br />
<br />
“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?<br />
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!<br />
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”<br />
He chortled in his joy.<br />
<br />
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves<br />
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;<br />
All mimsy were the borogoves,<br />
And the mome raths outgrabe.</span>Staff at the Rediscovered Bookshophttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10764081503554021995noreply@blogger.com0