Tuesday, October 28, 2008

The Best Poem you may ever read...

ALL I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked the other way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
So with my eyes I traced the line         5
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I’d started from;
And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.         10
Over these things I could not see:
These were the things that bounded me;
And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small         15
My breath came short, and scarce at all.
But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
Miles and miles above my head;
So here upon my back I’ll lie
And look my fill into the sky.         20
And so I looked, and, after all,
The sky was not so very tall.
The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
And—sure enough!—I see the top!
The sky, I thought, is not so grand;         25
I ’most could touch it with my hand!
And reaching up my hand to try,
I screamed to feel it touch the sky.
I screamed, and—lo!—Infinity
Came down and settled over me;         30
Forced back my scream into my chest,
Bent back my arm upon my breast,
And, pressing of the Undefined
The definition on my mind,
Held up before my eyes a glass         35
Through which my shrinking sight did pass
Until it seemed I must behold
Immensity made manifold;
Whispered to me a word whose sound
Deafened the air for worlds around,         40
And brought unmuffled to my ears
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.
I saw and heard and knew at last         45
The How and Why of all things, past,
And present, and forevermore.
The Universe, cleft to the core,
Lay open to my probing sense
That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence         50
But could not,—nay! But needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck
My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out.—Ah, fearful pawn!
For my omniscience paid I toll         55
In infinite remorse of soul.
All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning mine, and mine the gall
Of all regret. Mine was the weight
Of every brooded wrong, the hate         60
That stood behind each envious thrust,
Mine every greed, mine every lust.
And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief
With individual desire,—         65
Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire
About a thousand people crawl;
Perished with each,—then mourned for all!
A man was starving in Capri;
He moved his eyes and looked at me;         70
I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
And knew his hunger as my own.
I saw at sea a great fog bank
Between two ships that struck and sank;
A thousand screams the heavens smote;         75
And every scream tore through my throat.
No hurt I did not feel, no death
That was not mine; mine each last breath
That, crying, met an answering cry
From the compassion that was I.         80
All suffering mine, and mine its rod;
Mine, pity like the pity of God.
Ah, awful weight! Infinity
Pressed down upon the finite Me!
My anguished spirit, like a bird,         85
Beating against my lips I heard;
Yet lay the weight so close about
There was no room for it without.
And so beneath the weight lay I
And suffered death, but could not die.         90
Long had I lain thus, craving death,
When quietly the earth beneath
Gave way, and inch by inch, so great
At last had grown the crushing weight,
Into the earth I sank till I         95
Full six feet under ground did lie,
And sank no more,—there is no weight
Can follow here, however great.
From off my breast I felt it roll,
And as it went my tortured soul         100
Burst forth and fled in such a gust
That all about me swirled the dust.
Deep in the earth I rested now;
Cool is its hand upon the brow
And soft its breast beneath the head         105
Of one who is so gladly dead.
And all at once, and over all
The pitying rain began to fall;
I lay and heard each pattering hoof
Upon my lowly, thatchèd roof,         110
And seemed to love the sound far more
Than ever I had done before.
For rain it hath a friendly sound
To one who’s six feet under ground;
And scarce the friendly voice or face:         115
A grave is such a quiet place.
The rain, I said, is kind to come
And speak to me in my new home.
I would I were alive again
To kiss the fingers of the rain,         120
To drink into my eyes the shine
Of every slanting silver line,
To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze
From drenched and dripping apple-trees.
For soon the shower will be done,         125
And then the broad face of the sun
Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth
Until the world with answering mirth
Shakes joyously, and each round drop
Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.         130
How can I bear it; buried here,
While overhead the sky grows clear
And blue again after the storm?
O, multi-colored, multiform,
Beloved beauty over me,         135
That I shall never, never see
Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,
That I shall never more behold!
Sleeping your myriad magics through,
Close-sepulchred away from you!         140
O God, I cried, give me new birth,
And put me back upon the earth!
Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd
And let the heavy rain, down-poured
In one big torrent, set me free,         145
Washing my grave away from me!
I ceased; and through the breathless hush
That answered me, the far-off rush
Of herald wings came whispering
Like music down the vibrant string         150
Of my ascending prayer, and—crash!
Before the wild wind’s whistling lash
The startled storm-clouds reared on high
And plunged in terror down the sky,
And the big rain in one black wave         155
Fell from the sky and struck my grave.
I know not how such things can be;
I only know there came to me
A fragrance such as never clings
To aught save happy living things;         160
A sound as of some joyous elf
Singing sweet songs to please himself,
And, through and over everything,
A sense of glad awakening.
The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,         165
Whispering to me I could hear;
I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips
Brushed tenderly across my lips,
Laid gently on my sealèd sight,
And all at once the heavy night         170
Fell from my eyes and I could see,—
A drenched and dripping apple-tree,
A last long line of silver rain,
A sky grown clear and blue again.
And as I looked a quickening gust         175
Of wind blew up to me and thrust
Into my face a miracle
Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,—
I know not how such things can be!—
I breathed my soul back into me.         180
Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound;         185
Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky,
Till at my throat a strangling sob
Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb         190
Sent instant tears into my eyes;
O God, I cried, no dark disguise
Can e’er hereafter hide from me
Thy radiant identity!
Thou canst not move across the grass         195
But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,
Nor speak, however silently,
But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
I know the path that tells Thy way
Through the cool eve of every day;         200
God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!
The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky,—         205
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.         210
But East and West will pinch the heart
That can not keep them pushed apart;
And he whose soul is flat—the sky
Will cave in on him by and by.

Edna  St.  Vincent  Millay

More of My Favorite Cabs

                                  Woman in office with Calender

                                    A  Perfect  Image

                            'Marvin  Ali'    and    ' John  Frazier'
                                        Boxing 125  years ago

                                Beautiful  Girl and Photo  Album 

                                Young  girl  holds a photo of Herself

                                      Best  Woman in  Mirror

             I actually have an Entire Blog of Just Cabinet Photos
             That I have been fortunate enough to buy.


              Here are a few selections from that blog



        I came to collect  Antique  Photography in 2003...
        It was about the same time  my press photo career 
         (such as it was )  was on the wane and didnt interest
        me as much as it once did.

        I had set out to photograph the movers and shakers 
        as well as entertainers I enjoyed or felt were Iconic in
        their feilds.   the Greatest  people of our time if you will.
        Frankly, I accomplished more than I could have ever 
        hoped and though the money was never very good...
        I  waded through for the sake of History.

            I realized that those photographers from the 1800s
        Had gone somewhere I could never go and were better
        than I was, For that Reason.

             At first I collected Daguerreotypes, before realizing
          that  the ones I really liked with great clarity...were in
          the $250  price range so not something I could buy on 
          a regular basis. I then turned to Cabinet Cards  made 
          about 30 years later,   so  not  as old....  but  equally 
           Wonderful !

            There were many more types of   'Cabs' ....
            available out there.
            Women with long hair to the floor, Circus photos,
             Occupational of all sorts, Music oriented...on and on.
                  Now one particular type caught my eye.
             The Advertising cabinet card !
              It seems in the 1880s the good folks of the  midwest,
              ( Iowa especially) were in the habit of dressing  the
              women in all types of things.
                they  would have Merchant carnivals and Fairs
               where the young womens attire would reflect
               that of the small town's  shops and stores.
               Oftentimes they would hold a sign naming the
               shop they represented...and as in the photo above,
               I guess  "Potpourri" would be the best way to
                describe the types of Items they wore.
                In fact... they competed in a pageant of sorts,
                comparing  such curious Fashions.
                 These cabinets however are very rare...and costly
                 and as of this writing I have only been able to nab
                 a few.

              (Cab photo: Lena and Esther Dunning of  Mt. Ayr Iowa)



                        Sweetheart  or  "Oreo"  case

                          Carte de Visite

            Tintype...sometines  Placed in same type of cases
            As  Dags  and  Ambro's  were.

       Just in time for the civil war...the tintype arrived.
       These were no very expensive at all  and durable
       (more so than glass)
       Not especially hi quality...but fine to send home to
       sweethearts back home.
       Often times photographers set up their tents right
        outside the troops quarters...all across the USA 
       the photogs would roam...in search of the armies
       of the north and the south

      The CDV or Carte de Visite was a small paper  Image
       adhered to  cardboard, with photogs name and address
       printed usually on the reverse of the Image.
       these were  popular as well during this period.

        The  sweetheart case or 'Oreo' as it has been nicknamed
        given its resemblance to the cookie.
        Are prized among collectors.
        These most often contained Tintypes and many a soldier 
        carried  these on the battlefield (of their girlfriend  back home)

1855 The Ambrotype

       Daguerreotypes  were Images placed on Silver coated copper plates,
       Very Beautiful, but also very costly. It may take up to two days  
        wages  to earn enough to buy one.
       The  Ambrotype came on the seen in 1855 to make it photography
        more Affordable. Instead of silver, Glass was used as  the medium.
       These vary widely in quality and few if any ever...    
        came to match the Luminescent spell and effect of a finely done Dag.


1839 The Daguerreotype

                                 JMS  Collection

                 1839     The year Photography  was  born                                                                                

               Similiar to a hologram the Image comes and goes when tilted.
               To this day, it is still considered to be as sharp and crisp as any
               Photographic process ever created.
               It  is the most collectible and desirable of all Photographica.
               You owe it to yourself to seek out a daguerreotype at a nearby
               Antique dealer...and  ask if you may step outside and view it
                in the daylight. (he may ask to step outside with you)
                It is an experience you will not soon forget !

                 Nicknamed    the      'Mirror with a Memory'

Monday, October 27, 2008

Photographs are the EYE of History

This  blog  is for people who love all types of  photography.
For the most part...the Images are from my own collection.