Posted by
ParallaxAdHoc on Thursday, April 23, 2009 11:59:15 PM
“Mother may have thought her most notable characteristic was her Republican activism, but, for the rest of us, it was her constant, unconditional love. She was a little love machine, spreading warmth and joy wherever she went.”
--- Anne Coulter at http://www.humanevents.com/article.php?id=31569&page=22#c1
Ann:
A lovely homage to the one you love.
As a self-appointed Coulterist myself, may I say: God bless you, Ann for being such a wonderful daughter and a decent human being. Below, is my warmest condolences and best wishes to you. The words maybe recycled but the sentiments are no less heartfelt:
Reflections and Consolation
No words bedeemed e'en halfway adequate
Echo of such event unfortunate
When one beloved through the threshold pass
To leave the field resignedly for us
To reap the harvest from the seeds she'd sown
So from that harvest e'en more seeds be grown
So from the field yet be more harvest reaped
And through the seasons thus the field be kept.
No matter that she may behold no more
All those blossoms she so enjoyed before
It is for us to let the flowers grow
And of our best endeavors to bestow
That of her virtues we may dare extend
Of the shortcomings amply make amend.
If through our days we can this task sustain
She shall not have been in this field in vain.
Let tears flow free now to our sorrows' vent
Sad thoughts are lighter made if by tears spent;
Receive the cheers that whosoever sends
Sorrow is lighter made if shared with friends.
May the lines that hereinunder follow
Which, mine wanting, from the sage I borrow
Be of help to mitigate the sorrow
As we face the yet uncharted morrow:
***
"Many we love the loveliest and the best
That Time and Fate of all their vintage prest
Have drunk their cup a round or two before
And one by one crept silently to rest;
***
"And we, that now make merry in the room
They left, and summer dresses in new bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the couch of earth
Descend ourselves to make a couch for whom?
***
"So make the most of what we yet may spend
Before we too into the dust descend
Dust into dust, and under dust to lie
Sans wine, sans song, sans singer, and sans end.*"
*Quotation is a modified rendition to E. Fitzgerald's
translation of Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat
Original: New York City, April 6, 1987
Revisited: Rocky Point, NY December 23, 2007