William Wordsworth – She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways

I saw this violet this morning growing in some moss and instantly thought of Wordsworth’s poem, She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

Yeats – I Will Arise and Go Now

“I will arise and go now,
And go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there,
Of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there,
A hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there,
For peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning
To where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer,
And noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings

I will arise and go now,
For always night and day
I hear lake water lapping
With low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway
Or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”
~ W.B. Yeats

Emptyful Sculpture at Winnipeg Millennium Library

emptyful sculpture winnipeg

35 foot tall sculpture recently installed at Winnipeg’s Millennium Library, designed by Vancouver artist Bill Pechet.

“A rain curtain and fog during the summer, these water elements and the container itself will be lit at night with colours which cool and calm the summer heat, shifting greens, blues, aquas, whites, with the occasional burst of a hot colour. The winter lighting settings will be softly pulsing fire colours….orange, yellows, soft whites, ambers and reds to bring a warm contrast to the cold evenings”

emptyful sculpture blue

Colin Hay – Vancouver Folk Festival

I drink good coffee every morning
Comes from a place that’s far away
And when I’m done I feel like talking
Without you here there is less to say
I don’t want you thinking I’m unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don’t think I’ll ever get over you