Except as noted, all images copyrighted by and should be attributed to E B Hawley.
I had become many eons ago a traveling literary gnome, inquisitive about places I had and had not visited,
walking the same paths of peoples from the past, through places once grand and still grand,
photographing images that now show me the places about which I still dream . . .

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Remember Ryan, Too!

    Intrigued by the verses inscribed on the monument to honor the dead at the Perryville Battlefield, I surfed the Web for reliable sources. I discovered that Abram Joseph Ryan (1839-1886) wrote one quatrain consisting of two lines extracted from his poem "The Sword of Robert Lee," and that Theodore O'Hara (1822-1867) wrote the other three quatrains. No doubt that the people who erected the monument in 1902 chose the words for the relevance and emotional gravitas of their day.
    Both men seemed interesting. Project Gutenberg has a copy of a tribute to Ryan written by John Moran. The Catholic Encyclopedia notes that O'Hara "wrote little of special merit" except the poems from which came the quatrains inscribed on the Perryville monument, "The Bivouac of the Dead," and a second poem that became popular, "A Dirge for the Brave Old Pioneer."

Father Abram Joseph Ryan.

Theodore O'Hara

The area of Lexington in this picture taken from the air shows 
the undulating hills that reflect the countryside in Kentucky
where battles were fought during the American Civil War.

One way to Perryville, the (nail-biting) curving Highway 68.

Old trees grace the hallowed grounds of the battlefield.
                                   
[ . . . ]
Nor braver bled for a brighter land,
Nor brighter land had cause so grand, 
[ . . . ]
From "The Sword of Robert Lee" by Abram Joseph Ryan.

[ . . . ]
On Fame's eternal camping-ground
their silent tents are spread,
and glory guards with solemn round
the bivouac of the dead.
[ . . . ]
From "The Bivouac of the Dead," by Theodore O'Hara.

                                      
[ . . . ]
Nor shall your glory be forgot
while fame her record keeps,
or honor points the hallowed spot
where valor proudly sleeps.
[ . . . ]
From "The Bivouac of the Dead," by Theodore O'Hara.

[ . . . ]
Nor wreck, nor change, or winter's blight
nor time's remorseless doom,
shall dim one ray of holy light
that gilds your glorious tomb.
[ . . . ]
From "The Bivouac of the Dead," by Theodore O'Hara. 

The monument in May, 2012, on a foggy day. 

Rest in peace, dear fallen. 

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JMHawley Gave Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On

Listen, will you? I think that . . . literature, poetry, music and love make the world go round . . . while mathematics explains things; I fill my life with them, then go walking in snowy woods.
Let us go then, you and I
like two etherized patients floating
through life, together feeling prufrockian.
DDB Jr. makes my world go 'round; during his absence, Pachelbel fills it up.
One summer I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, then through the Gulf of Finland to reach Saint Petersburg; I pursued Joseph Brodsky in its alley ways. I dream of making that two summers.
I read “Biking to Electra;” found my way in a Jaguar car, and glanced at the flashing steel grasshoppers at sunset. I’ll follow K.O.P.’s footsteps after he followed N.Scott Momaday’s; find warmth and inspiration on a rainy mountain.
Throw chinese coins for the I Ching.
Save the whales, the spotted owl, the woman in toil.
Cast a fly for trout; my memories of fly fishing under the sunny blue Colorado sky remain; I yearn to build more . . . with more trophy Browns.
Listen for the swan’s calls on the Baltic Sea. Feel KKII's joy, his arms spread wide in Yazilikaya.
Good night, Jimmy Durante, where ever you are.