Easter, 1916

Easter, 1916


I have met them at close of day   
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey   
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head   
Or polite meaningless words,   
Or have lingered awhile and said   
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done   
Of a mocking tale or a gibe   
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,   
Being certain that they and I   
But lived where motley is worn:   
All changed, changed utterly:   
A terrible beauty is born.

That woman’s days were spent   
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers   
When, young and beautiful,   
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school   
And rode our wingèd horse;   
This other his helper and friend   
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,   
So sensitive his nature seemed,   
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,   
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,   
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Hearts with one purpose alone   
Through summer and winter seem   
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road,   
The rider, the birds that range   
From cloud to tumbling cloud,   
Minute by minute they change;   
A shadow of cloud on the stream   
Changes minute by minute;   
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,   
And a horse plashes within it;   
The long-legged moor-hens dive,   
And hens to moor-cocks call;   
Minute by minute they live:   
The stone’s in the midst of all.

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.   
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven’s part, our part   
To murmur name upon name,   
As a mother names her child   
When sleep at last has come   
On limbs that had run wild.   
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;   
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith   
For all that is done and said.   
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;   
And what if excess of love   
Bewildered them till they died?   
I write it out in a verse—
MacDonagh and MacBride   
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:   
A terrible beauty is born.

Arrest them

·8hArrest Comey Arrest Clapper Arrest Brennan Arrest Yates Arrest Bruce Ohr Arrest Nellie Ohr Arrest Page Arrest Strzok Arrest McCabe Arrest Rice Arrest Hillary Arrest Obama Arrest Biden Arrest Podesta Arrest Lynch ARREST ALL TREASONOUS TRAITORS WHO ATTEMPTED THIS COUP!

September 16: Goals (Money Matters)

Day Williams created this graphic depiction of this date.

September 16


He who loses wealth loses much; he who loses a friend loses more; but he that loses his courage loses all.

~Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (1547 – 1616), Spanish writer, author of Don Quixote



Wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants.

~Epictetus, Greek philosopher associated with the Stoics, 55 – circa 135 A.D.


Know well the condition of your flocks, and pay attention to your herds.

~Proverbs 27:23

1001 Quotations Money Matters Ben Franklin_3.2MB

Tahoe Tobin

Two scientists search for the Loch Ness Monster and they gather eggs. they go to Lake Tahoe and lose an egg. The egg hatches and becomes a green monster, Tahoe Tobin, King of Lake Tahoe. The fun and the danger begin when Tobin meets another monster, Tahoe Tessie.

by Day Williams

Illustrated by Kasey Snow

America, America Wherefore Art Thou?

America, America Wherefore Art Thou?

Adolescent legislators who mouth off too often
Wrestle with pigs in mud beneath the Dome,
The dirt and excrement do nothing to soften
Potbelly Senators who take commands from Rome.

Reps draft a bill that requires teachers to watch MASH
And a movie with Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda,
Politicians wrestle and slug for donors’ cash,
And try to sell statues in the Rotunda,

The Prez invites them to the Garden for fruit punch,
Half grasp the fruit and punch their opponents
The other half nibble the Bill of Rights for lunch,
And the valet hands each guest a bill for the Garden’s rent.

Across the halls where secrets are kept in a sieve,
The eager Committees rack up points for their viewers,
All three of whom are trapped in rooms they cannot leave
In prison beds below the tunnels and the City’s sewers.

At the sacred Tomb of the Soldier Unknown
A family stands behind the rope and waves,
The soldier on duty thinks he hears a groan,
A rumble is heard as a body turns in its grave,

“America, America wherefore art thou?”
Over Arlington’s graves echoes a disembodied voice,
“You’ve traded common sense for mockers and Mao,
You’ve stabbed yourself, and the Marxists rejoice:

Remember pioneers who carved homes from wilderness,
City fathers, railroad builders, miners, the engineers
Of bridges and towers, doctors who alleviate distress,
Warm families, dedicated teachers, and balladeers,

Remember how you wanted government small,
So men had freedom and labored on their own
To build their lives, unimpeded, and rise or fall
On their pluck and luck, persistence alone,

Without a bureaucrat calling the shots
Or an obscure agency calling a halt
To complex construction as an afterthought,
Or a big city law firm forcing a default.

Remember, America, your bloody humble birth,
When you fought off a king so you could self-rule
Under God, a beacon for the lands on the earth,
A center where great minds would come for school.”

And the Prez went home with his wife for a day,
And the family told their friends in paraphrase,
And the soldier marched and turned in perfect phase,
And the legislators stumbled home in a haze.

    ~Day Williams