I promised June would be poetry month. Have you ever read a long, epic poem? It is much easier than you think. Once you find the proper rhythm it becomes a joy of discovery. I wouldn’t start with Milton though. He is way to0 sublime for someone trying to enjoy poetry for leisure. May I suggest (again?) one of my favorite epic poems?

The Vision of Sir Launfal is a treat from start to finish. You can read it online if you don’t have it around the house. If you do read it, let me know if you liked it.

And now for my annual June welcoming poem I present James Russell Lowell’s verses on June from the prelude to Sir Launfal:

Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us;
The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in,
The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us,
We bargain for the graves we lie in;
At the Devil’s booth are all things sold
Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold;
For a cap and bells our lives we pay,
Bubbles we earn with a whole soul’s tasking:
‘T is heaven alone that is given away,
‘T is only God may be had for the asking;
no price is set on the lavish summer,
June may be had by the poorest comer.

So there you have it. You have been given a gift called June and you have 30 days to enjoy it.

Let the lavish summer begin!

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I don’t plan on posting about poetry everyday but I will try to do a couple of posts a week.

Since one of our favorite poems is Opportunity by Edward Roland Sill, I thought I would look up other poems with that theme. I still like Sills’ perfect picture best. This is not only a great poem to memorize but your boys must absolutely act it out.

I had to put an end to our Morning Time romps of acting out Horatius. It was such a long poem, the little boys were getting positively dangerous with their swords. Can you imagine the fun of acting out: “And Clove him to the teeth?”

Martial poetry is always popular in our home. I hope our celtic blood will produce warrior poets out of all my boys.

OPPORTUNITY

by: Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887)

THIS I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:–
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince’s banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle’s edge,
And thought, “Had I a sword of keener steel–
That blue blade that the king’s son bears, — but this
Blunt thing–!” he snapped and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king’s son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.

Opportunity

__John James Ingalls

Master of human destinies am I;
Fame, love and fortune on my footsteps wait.
Cities and fields I walk. I penetrate
Deserts and seas remote, and, passing by
Hovel and mart and palace, soon or late,
I knock unbidden once at every gate.
If sleeping, wake; if feasting, rise, before
I turn away. It is the hour of fate,
And they who follow me reach every state
Mortals desire, and conquer every foe
Save death; but those who hesitate
Condemned to failure, penury and woe,
Seek me in vain, and uselessly implore.
I answer not, and I return no more.


The Opportunity

By Thomas Hardy

(FOR H. P.)

Forty springs back, I recall,
We met at this phase of the Maytime:
We might have clung close through all,
But we parted when died that daytime.

We parted with smallest regret;
Perhaps should have cared but slightly,
Just then, if we never had met:
Strange, strange that we lived so lightly!

Had we mused a little space
At that critical date in the Maytime,
One life had been ours, one place,
Perhaps, till our long cold daytime.

- This is a bitter thing
For thee, O man: what ails it?
The tide of chance may bring
Its offer; but nought avails it!

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1. How’s Inky Sam Campbell
2. An Island Story Henrietta E Marshall (2 years)
3. Tanglewood Tales Nathaniel Hawthorne
4. Much Ado About Nothing Shakespeare
5. Winnie-The-Pooh AA Milne
6. The Wheel on the School Meindert DeJong
7. Friendly Gables Hilda Van Stockum
8. Timolean Plutarch
9. Othello Shakespeare
10. The Wind in the Willows Kenneth Grahame
11. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe CS Lewis
12 The Lion in the Box De Angeli
13. The House at Pooh Corner Milne
14. Now We are Six Milne
15. 50 Famous Stories James Baldwin
16. Amelius Paulus Plutarch
17. Hostage to Alexander Mary Evans Andrews
18. The Story of the Romans Guerber
19. The Book of Life Vol 3. (2 years)
20. The Winter’s Tale Shakespeare
21. The Story of the World Vol 1 (2 years) SW Bauer ( I won’t be continuing this series.)
22. Quintus R Weerstand (not quite finished)
23. Little Women Louisa May Alcott ( almost..yes, I know we started in in the Fall; Girltime is hard to come by in our home.)

We also listened to 3 audio books:

Prince Caspian
by CS Lewis
The Kalahari Typing School for Men by A M Smith
The Lost World by AC Doyle

We are continuing to read:
English Literature for Boys and Girls Marshall

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Yes, friends, someone else has disappointed me, let me down, shocked me.

I have heard through the grapevine that a formerly very good friend of mine not only listens to country music (unheard of among presbyterians) but she has allowed her husband and daughter to attend a Nascar race. Isn’t that tacky? I hope she doesn’t try to call me this summer to talk about how to homeschool boys. I am not sure how to rescue her from the path she is on.

We live only 90 miles from a Nascar track. You would think if they really liked us and they were going to go slumming, they would at least pick Talladega and visit their country cousins.

We could drink iced tea on the front porch swing and listen to our 4 little boys sing Whiskey Lullaby or It’s 5:00 Somewhere. We wouldn’t even have to wear shoes.

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It’s that time of year. The time that has rolled around for the last 17 years. The time, while planning the upcoming school year, I evaluate the old one. You will find me wandering wide-eyed among our bookshelves muttering lots of Robert Burns. Really, isn’t Scottish poetry just made for the homeschooling mother; so hopeful, so realistic, so doomed? Aside: I do recommend if you memorize Scottish poetry you dispense with the utterly nonsensical idea of translating it into modern English. It’s poetry, people.

Anyway, I am sitting at my computer with a separate folder for each student, pouring over catalogs and reading lists, glancing hopefully at my bookshelves, more hopefully at the computer and all the while I know that no matter what I write down it will turn out to be altogether something else next June. Not something bad but not at all what I planned. Still every year I faithfully conjure up dreams and booklists and cling tenaciously to the idea that they help. They do help me to stay focused and push a little harder, to read-aloud when I don’t feel like it. There!!! That’s a tip: Read-aloud when you don’t feel like it.

So here I sit with the tools of my trade: Bookshelves lining every wall, the 2006/2007 Beautiful Feet catalog, the Ambleside Online page opened in my browser, the Veritas catalog, the Memoria Press catalog and the Sonlight Catalogue ( I like that spelling better). If I don’t happen to have any money to order from these catalogs I will still use them in choosing books we already own.

We have wonderful volumes on our shelves that no one has ever read. Without buying anything else again ever a person could get a good education just by using what is already in this home.

But like the proverbial fire, the psychotic homeschooling mother never says, “enough.”

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This is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,
And nestlings fly;
And the little brown nightingale bills his best,
And they sit outside at ‘The Traveller’s Rest,’
And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,
And citizens dream of the south and west,
And so do I.

(II)

This is the weather the shepherd shuns,
And so do I;
When beeches drip in browns and duns,
And thresh and ply;
And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,
And meadow rivulets overflow,
And drops on gate bars hang in a row,
And rooks in families homeward go,
And so do I.

– Thomas Hardy

Now don’t tell me you don’t like this poem! If you don’t like it, read it through 5 or 6 times searching for the rhythm. The 2nd, 4th and last lines should be read slower than the quick tempo-ed other lines.

I guess it’s not really fair for me to say you have to like the poem! But if you don’t like it let me know a poem you do like.

We have been having cuckoo weather. I am intimitely, abnormally attached to weather.

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It has been a bizarre week. I tried to go to the DMV Monday but it was closed. I just couldn’t figure that out. I finally walked up and read the notice on the door: Closed for Jefferson Davis Day. I felt sorta bad that I didn’t realize it was Jeff Davis Day. I called my dad so he could celebrate :) ( There is wry humor in that last sentence but you would have to know my dad to get it.)

Then on Tuesday, I went to the DMV again and while writing my check I asked the lady the date and she sorta shuddered and said, “6-6-6.” If only the day before had been 6-6-6, it might have cleared up a lot of things. If the day did give you the crips(family term meaning creeps), you might want to read Carmon’s post.

In an even more bizarre turn I got my chance to vote for Roy Moore yesterday. My candidates always lose. I still haven’t found out how the rest of my issues fared. A good rule of thumb for a candidate would be to ask me not to vote for them. Whoever I vote for loses. After my big Bret Schundler loss in NJ, I have stopped being bitter.

Speaking of bitter, Benjamin may or may not have hit a shot over the fence last night. People standing outside the fence say it went over and then bounced. The umpire
( definition: Man in blue who does not like his authority to be questioned and has a big ego, sometimes paid by the other team, possible tatoo marks on forehead or hand.),
said it bounced over the fence keeping us from getting any runs at all. After 6 tied innings Benjamin’s team was eliminated from the tournament. His season is over.

But that’s the way it always is in baseball. Unless you win the whole shebang you go down losing. Even in MLB, among the better teams, only one will end the season with a win.

Andrew is still standing.

Timothy WILL BE home tonight. He will be here for 2 weeks and we plan to pamper him a bit.

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For some reason poetry has come to symbolize something uniquely feminine. This is strange since a vast amount of poetry has been written by men, manly men, much of it centered on epic war themes. Perhaps some boys hear too many sonnets and love songs before they find out the masculine heart of poetry. Wordsworth and Emily Dickinson are not the places to start with boys. It is not hard at all, even amongst the most well-known poetry, to find poems that boys will love.

One of my sons was particularly fond of Poe, which surprised me. Most women are not fond of Poe. But Poe is the perfect masculine poet. His poems are easily read, tell a story, mysterious, lyrical and full of the themes boys respond to. Poe gives a boy a chance to feel brave or to face his own fears.

Kipling is another manly poet. Of course, Kipling is out of fashion for his imperialistic views but the man was a genius at writing masculine poetry. Here is one of my favorites. Read it through a few times because the English cockney accent is hard to grab but well worth the effort.

Some other easy to find poems that boys love:

Requiem by Robert Louis Stevenson

Requiem

UNDER the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.


The Village Blacksmith
by Longfellow
Henry V’s Speech to his cousin Westmorland William Shakespeare ( It doesn’t get any better than this.)
The Destruction of Sennacherib Byron
The Charge of the Light Brigade Tennyson
Paul Revere’s Ride Longfellow
Sail on Joaquin Miller
Casey at the Bat by Thayer ( and several sequels by various authors)
The Illiad & The Odyssey by Homer
James Whitcomb Riley has many poems about a boy’s life.
You can never, never go wrong with the Scottish bards: Burns & Scott. If you have any celtic blood in you at all, you owe it to your sons to introduce them to the Scottish warrior poets.
Windy Nights by RLS
Robert Frost is a particularly manly poet.
Sir John Suckling’s Why So Pale and Wan? is the kind of love poem boys will like.
There is a whole vast body of poems on sinking ships and life at sea.

These are only the most obvious choices.

Don’t sit your boys down and expect them to like poems about the stars being God’s daisy chain.

‘”Every time a fairy sheds a tear, a wee star is born in the Milky Way.” Have you ever thought that, Mr Wooster?’

I never had. Most improbable, I considered, and it didn’t seem to me to check up with her statement that the stars were God’s daisy chain. I mean, you can’t have it both ways.

– Right Ho, Jeeves - P.G. Wodehouse

Blood and violence are far better things than fairy tears for the little men among us.

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Laura needs help finding out which editions of used Saxon math to buy. Also what support materials does she need. I don’t know anything about pre-54 Saxon. For Saxon 54 and up I use the homeschool editions with answer keys and test packet. These are both white booklets. My Saxon 54 has a 1990 copyright. Any info would be appreciated.

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Obviously, I have been enjoying the summer.

Timothy is home and being a huge help. He cleaned the garage because “it was embarrassing,” with only the help of the younger crew.

Andrew was finally eliminated from the tournament. The last game was a heartbreaker. After being ahead by 8 runs in the top of the 5th (they play 6), they gave up 7 & 2 runs in the next 2 innings. Sad. But he had a great season 25-7, including all pre-season and post-season play.

I am playing with my new iPod shuffle, learning how to listen to books on it. I am listening to a fascinating book by Thomas Sowell called Black Rednecks and White Liberals. It is a series of essays on race.

We played softball in town after church last night.

I have been taking a free online course on “building your first webpage.” I promise, Valerie, that I won’t mess with this site. I may play with my free Charter site though. Just for fun.

I am not really reading anything. I keep starting things and not finishing. I have been reading Lamb’s Essays of Elia as I drift off to sleep at night. I figure Lamb was the original witty blogger and maybe I can pick up a few tips.

I am looking for a thumping good book but I keep grabbing things off the shelf and returning them. Now that Dr Grant has posted his summer reading list I may just borrow a few of his ideas. Or maybe I will reread Richard Mitchell as DHM suggested. Still a great murder mystery would be fun, but I have to go to the library to get one.

What are you reading this summer?

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