MAY IN BLOOM

MAY IN BLOOM

May is so beautiful:
Orchards are fair;
Branches of fruit trees
Make gardens of air.

Flowers of fragrance
Bloom in the light;
Fall like the snowflakes
Showering white.

Orchards of heaven
Grow with a grace,
And like a blessing
Perfume the place.

Each tree in blossom,
Each lovely spray,
In this month of Our Lady,
Bring glory to May.

Helen Maring
The Magnificat. Volume LXVIII. Number 1. May 1941.

Theft'? Loss of cheap power at issue

Theft'? Loss of cheap power at issue
Low-cost electricity that benefits WNY may shift to statewide program for businesses
By David Robinson


A chunk of cheap electricity that now helps hold down the monthly power bills of Western New Yorkers and other upstate residents could be snatched away and used as the cornerstone of a plan to expand a program that provides inexpensive electricity to businesses statewide.

Supporters say the proposed shift would make better use of a valuable resource that currently saves upstate residents just a few dollars a month, when it could be turned into a powerful tool to create jobs.

But critics say the proposal is another power grab by downstate interests that will prevent businesses from Buffalo Niagara to Albany from reaping all of the benefits from one of upstate's most valuable economic resources.

"To me, it's really just a theft of a regional asset," said Assemblyman William L. Parment, D-North Harmony.

At issue is the future of the state's Power for Jobs program that provides low-cost electricity to 440 businesses and nonprofit groups across the state.

While four competing proposals — one from Gov. David A. Paterson and three from state legislators — are being discussed, the existing program is set to expire May 15.

Each of the proposals would expand the availability of low-cost power to businesses by taking the 455 megawatts of low-cost hydropower that now is used to reduce upstate utility bills by an average of $2 to $4 a month and shifting that electricity to businesses.

That move would more than double the amount of reduced-cost power available to businesses under a program that currently supports 440 companies that provide nearly 240,000 jobs statewide. A total of 72 companies with nearly 14,400 employees in Erie and Niagara counties receive more than 36 megawatts of low-cost power through the program, which typically costs 5 percent to 20 percent less than market rates.

Supporters of the shift contend that using the power to encourage business growth will provide a much greater economic boost to the state by creating or retaining jobs, rather than providing upstate consumers with a small savings on their electric bills.

Critics, however, say the reallocation will shift electricity that currently benefits only upstate consumers and put it into an economic-development program that operates statewide.

One of the bills, from State Sen. George D. Maziarz, R-Newfane, would allow companies statewide to participate in the expanded program, but upstate recipients would reap far greater cost savings than firms downstate.

"I think upstate has to be given preference," said Maziarz, the chairman of the Senate's Energy Committee.

Parment, for instance, said he would support a plan that moved the residential electricity into the economic-development program if it limited its use to businesses located within the areas served by National Grid, New York State Electric & Gas and Rochester Gas & Electric — the only utilities that now benefit from the low-cost "rural and domestic" power.

But Andrew J. Rudnick, president of the Buffalo Niagara Partnership, said he doubts such an approach would win approval in the State Legislature.

That puts upstate business interests in a sticky position. On the one hand, they can go along with an enlarged statewide Power for Jobs program that will benefit more businesses upstate and also includes new guidelines that would help prevent past abuses, which in the past has seen cheap electricity flow to downstate nonprofits, including a Boys & Girls Club in the Bronx.

Or they can fight an uphill battle politically to keep the power exclusively upstate, and risk a stalemate that could jeopardize the entire Power for Jobs program, said Rudnick, whose group has long advocated converting the residential power into an economic-development tool.

Paterson administration officials defended taking what is now a benefit for upstate residential customers and spreading it around to industrial and commercial users across the state. They said upstate manufacturers will be heavy beneficiaries of the additional power allotment.

"It's a statewide asset. Why should only one area be able to take advantage of that asset?" said Thomas Congdon, Paterson's deputy secretary for energy.

Each of the proposals would try to offset the impact of the shift in varying ways. The Paterson proposal would offset the costs entirely for one year by providing a $70 million subsidy funded by the Power Authority that then would phase out in equal increments over the following five years. The Paterson proposal also would provide a $5 monthly credit to low-income customers and create a $10 million program to fund energy-efficiency improvements by consumers, a 38 percent increase from current funding levels.

Paterson vowed Wednesday that he will not settle for anything less than a long-term extension of the program after five years of stopgap, one-year extensions that the governor and business leaders have said makes long-term planning difficult.

Richard M. Kessel, the Power Authority's president and chief executive officer, said the Paterson plan would remove a legislative roadblock that has prevented new companies from enrolling in the program in recent years. He also noted that the Power Authority must walk a fine line as it reviews the qualifications of existing recipients at a time when jobs are scarce and the economy is sputtering.

Meanwhile, Sen. Charles E. Schumer, D-N.Y, wrote a letter to Kessel, urging him to craft a longer-term energy agreement with Steuben Foods of Elma.

The food company is planning a major expansion, but the Power Authority only offered Steuben a seven-year contract for low-cost hydropower — even though the agency also offers 10- and 15-year contracts. A longer contract would help the company with its expansion plans, Schumer said.

Tom Precious of The News Albany Bureau and News Washington Bureau Chief Jerry Zremski contributed to this report.

drobinson@buffnews.com

John Deere Tractor

John Deere Tractor



Hey momma here's a letter from your son
well I think my city days are done Ma
and it ain't been three weeks since I came

Hey momma
I do remember what you said
say your prayers before you go to bed son
and remember city women ain't the same

I'm like a John Deere tractor in a half acre field
trying to plow a furrow where the soil is made of steel
Oh I wish I was home Ma where the bluegrass is growin'
and the sweet country girls don't complain

Hey momma
so much perfume I thought I'd drown
and the Lord didn't seem to be nowhere around
hey I fell like a flower from the vine

Ah she was pretty lord knows
I thought she would bring me joy
she laughed she called me country boy ma
and after she had been so kind

I'm like a John Deere tractor in a half acre field
trying to plow a furrow where the soil is made of steel
oh I wish I was home ma where the bluegrass is growin'
and the fire light shimmers and shines.

My Cardigan Welsh Corgi Bitch

Cati my dear little companion dog.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,
And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909)

From the poem “Atalanta in Calydon” as published at the Swinburne Archive

LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING

I HEARD a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

by William Wordsworth

SOME keep the Sabbath going to church

SOME keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.

Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church,
Our little sexton sings.

God preaches,—a noted clergyman,—
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I ’m going all along!

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

IT ’S like the light,—

IT ’S like the light,—
A fashionless delight,
It’s like the bee,—
A dateless melody.

It ’s like the woods,
Private like breeze,
Phraseless, yet it stirs
The proudest trees.

It ’s like the morning,—
Best when it’s done,—
The everlasting clocks
Chime noon.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson (December 10, 1830 – May 15, 1886)

Dickinson was an American poet. Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, to a successful family with strong community ties, she lived a mostly introverted and reclusive life. After she studied at the Amherst Academy for seven years in her youth, she spent a short time at Mount Holyoke Female Seminary before returning to her family's house in Amherst. Thought of as an eccentric by the locals, she became known for her penchant for white clothing and her reluctance to greet guests or, later in life, even leave her room. Most of her friendships were therefore carried out by correspondence.

Although Dickinson was a prolific private poet, fewer than a dozen of her nearly eighteen hundred poems were published during her lifetime. The work that was published during her lifetime was usually altered significantly by the publishers to fit the conventional poetic rules of the time. Dickinson's poems are unique for the era in which she wrote; they contain short lines, typically lack titles, and often use slant rhyme as well as unconventional capitalization and punctuation. Many of her poems deal with themes of death and immortality, two recurring topics in letters to her friends.

Although most of her acquaintances were probably aware of Dickinson's writing, it was not until after her death in 1886—when Lavinia, Emily's younger sister, discovered her cache of poems—that the breadth of Dickinson's work became apparent. Her first collection of poetry was published in 1890 by personal acquaintances Thomas Wentworth Higginson and Mabel Loomis Todd, both of whom heavily edited the content. A complete and mostly unaltered collection of her poetry became available for the first time in 1955 when The Poems of Emily Dickinson was published by scholar Thomas H. Johnson. Despite unfavorable reviews and skepticism of her literary prowess during the late 19th and early 20th century, critics now consider Dickinson to be a major American poet.

Each-Life-Converges by Emily Dickinson

Each life converges to some centre
Expressed or still;
Exists in every human nature
A goal,

Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,
Too fair
For credibility's temerity
To dare.

Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,
To reach
Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment
To touch,

Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;
How high
Unto the saints' slow diligence
The sky!

Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture,
But then,
Eternity enables the endeavoring
Again.

by Emily Dickinson

THE ROBIN

THE ROBIN is the one
That interrupts the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is scarcely on.

The robin is the one
That overflows the noon
With her cherubic quantity,
An April but begun.

The robin is the one
That speechless from her nest
Submits that home and certainty
And sanctity are best.

Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924.

The Lamb

Little Lamb, who make thee
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life, and bid thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, wolly, bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little Lamb, I'll tell thee;
Little Lamb, I'll tell thee:
He is called by thy name,
For He calls Himself a Lamb
He is meek, and He is mild,
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little Lamb, God bless thee!
Little Lamb, God bless thee!



William Blake

Nymphs

"Nymphs and a Satyr" by William Bouguereau, 1873.


Nymphs
by Katharine Tynan


‘Where are ye now, O beautiful girls of the mountain,
Oreads all ?
Nothing at all stirs here save the drip of the fountain;
Answer our call
Only the heart-glad thrush, in the vale of Thrushes;
Stirs in the brake
But the dew-bright ear of the hare in his couch of rushes
Listening, awake.’

New Lamb born today

The End of the Day

The night darkens fast & the shadows darken,
Clouds & the rain gather about mine house,
Only the wood-dove moans, hearken, O hearken!
The moan of the wood-dove in the rain-wet boughs.

Loneliness & the night! The night is lonely
Star-covered the night takes to a tender breast
Wrapping them in her veil these dark hours only
The weary, the bereaved, the dispossessed.

When will it lighten? Once the night was kindly
Nor all her hours went by leaden & long.
Now in mine house the hours go groping blindly.
After the shiver of dawn, the first bird's song.

Sleep now! The night with wings of splendour swept
Hides heavy eyes from light that they may sleep
Soft & secure, under her gaze so tender
Lest they should wake to weep, should wake to weep.

by Katharine Tynan

KATHARINE TYNAN, A Favorite Irish Poet of Mine

Katharine Tynan was an Irish-born writer, known mainly for her novels and poetry. After her marriage in 1898 to the writer and barrister Henry Albert Hinkson (1865–1919) she usually wrote under the name Katharine Tynan Hinkson (or Katharine Tynan-Hinkson or Katharine Hinkson-Tynan). Of their three children, Pamela Hinkson (1900-1982) was also known as a writer.

Tynan was born into a large farming family in Clondalkin, County Dublin, and educated at a convent school in Drogheda. Her poems were first published in 1878. She met and became friendly with the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins in 1886. Tynan went on to play a major part in Dublin literary circles, until she married and moved to England; later she lived at Claremorris, County Mayo when her husband was a magistrate there from 1914 until 1919.

For a while, Tynan was a close associate of William Butler Yeats (who may have proposed marriage and been rejected, around 1885), and later a correspondent of Francis Ledwidge. She is said to have written over 100 novels. Her Collected Poems appeared in 1930. She also wrote five autobiographical volumes.

Tynan produced a great deal of writing during her career. It is reported that she was capable of delivering one novel per month! Apart from two anthologies, sixteen other collections of poetry, five plays, seven books of devotion, and one book about her dogs, she wrote over 105 popular novels, twelve collections of short stories, and innumerable newspaper articles. Her work was marked by an unusual blend of Catholicism and feminism, but was always drawn from real life.

Tynan suffered from bouts of depression throughout her life, but particularly after the sudden death of her husband in 1919. However, she kept writing, especially poetry, up until her death in London in 1931.


Tynan died in Wimbledon, London, in 1931 at the age of 70.

THE FLYING WHEEL

by: Katharine Tynan Hinkson (1861-1931)

When I was young the days were long,
Oh, long the days when I was young:
So long from morn to evenfall
As they would never end at all.

Now I grow old Time flies, alas!
I watch the years and seasons pass.
Time turns him with his fingers thin
A wheel that whirls while it doth spin.

There is no time to take one’s ease,
For to sit still and be at peace:
Oh, whirling wheel of Time, be still,
Let me be quiet if you will!

Yet still it turns so giddily,
So fast the years and seasons fly,
Dazed with the noise and speed I run
And stay me on the Changeless One.

I stay myself on Him who stays
Ever the same through nights and days:
The One Unchangeable for aye,
That was and will be: the one Stay,

O’er whom Eternity will pass
But as an image in a glass;
To whom a million years are nought,--
I stay myself on a great Thought.

I stay myself on the great Quiet
After the noises and the riot;
As in a garnished chamber sit
Far from the tumult of the street.

Oh, wheel of Time, turn round apace!
But I have found a resting-place.
You will not trouble me again
In the great peace where I attain.

OF ST. FRANCIS AND THE ASS

OF ST. FRANCIS AND THE ASS

Our father, ere he went
Out with his brother, Death,
Smiling and well-content
As a bridegroom goeth,
Sweetly forgiveness prayed
From man or beast whom he
Had ever injured
Or burdened needlessly.

'Verily,' then said he,
'I crave before I pass
Forgiveness full and free
Of my little brother, the ass.
Many a time and oft,
When winds and ways were hot,
He hath borne me cool and soft
And service grudged me not.

'And once did it betide
There was, unseen of me,
A gall upon his side
That suffered grievously.
And once his manger was
Empty and bare, and brown.
(Praise God for sweet, dry grass
That Bethlehem folk shook down! )



'Consider, brethern,' said he,
'Our little brother; how mild,
How patient, he will be,
Though men are fierce and wild.
His coat is gray and fine,
His eyes are kind with love;
This little brother of mine
Is gentle as the dove.

'Consider how such an one
Beheld our Saviour born,
And carried him, full-grown,
Through Eastern streets one morn.
For this the Cross is laid
Upon him for a sign.
Greatly is honourèd
This little brother of mine.'

And even while he spake,
Down in his stable stall
His little ass 'gan shake
And turned its face to the wall.
Down fell the heavy tear;
Its gaze so mournful was,
Fra Leo, standing near,
Pitied the little ass.



That night our father died,
All night the kine did low:
The ass went heavy-eyed,
With patient tears and slow.
The very birds on wings
Made mournful cries in the air.
Amen! all living things
Our father's brethern were.

BY KATHARINE
TYNAN

Sheep and Lambs

All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road.

The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road;
All in the April evening
I thought on the Lamb of God.

The lambs were weary and crying
With a weak, human cry.
I thought on the Lamb of God
Going meekly to die.

Up in the blue, blue mountains
Dewy pastures are sweet;
Rest for the little bodies,
Rest for the little feet.

But for the Lamb of God,
Up on the hill-top green,
Only a Cross of shame
Two stark crosses between.

All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
I saw the sheep with their lambs,
And thought on the Lamb of God.

Katharine Tynan

A Better Resurrection

By Christina Rossetti

I have no wit, no words, no tears;
My heart within me like a stone
Is numb’d too much for hopes or fears;
Look right, look left, I dwell alone;
I lift mine eyes, but dimm’d with grief
No everlasting hills I see;
My life is in the falling leaf:
O Jesus, quicken me.

My life is like a faded leaf,
My harvest dwindled to a husk:
Truly my life is void and brief
And tedious in the barren dusk;
My life is like a frozen thing,
No bud nor greenness can I see:
Yet rise it shall–the sap of Spring;
O Jesus, rise in me.

My life is like a broken bowl,
A broken bowl that cannot hold
One drop of water for my soul
Or cordial in the searching cold;
Cast in the fire the perish’d thing;
Melt and remould it, till it be
A royal cup for Him, my King:
O Jesus, drink of me.

“GOOD FRIDAY” – by Christina G. Rossetti

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy Blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky.
A horror of great darkness at broad noon –
I, only I.

Yet give not o’er
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

-Christina G. Rossetti(5 December 1830 – 29 December 1894

‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, Their Innocent Faces Clean

By William Blake

‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, their innocent faces clean,
The children walking two and two, in red and blue and green,
Grey-headed beadles walk’d before, with wands as white as snow,
Till into the high dome of Paul’s they like Thames’ waters flow.

O what a multitude they seem’d, these flowers of London town!
Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own.
The hum of multitudes was there, but multitudes of lambs,
Thousands of little boys and girls raising their innocent hands.

Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song,
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of Heaven among.
Beneath them sit the aged men, wise guardians of the poor;
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door.






Holy Thursday: ‘Twas on a Holy Thursday, Their Innocent Faces Clean

The Last Supper (1542), Rome, Galleria Borghese

Jacopo Bassano (also known as Jacopo da Ponte, c. 1510 – 13 February 1592) was an Italian painter active in the Republic of Venice. He was born and died in Bassano del Grappa near Venice, from which he adopted the name.

His father Francesco Bassano the Elder was a "peasant artist" and Jacopo adopted some of his style as he created religious paintings with novel features including animals, farmhouses, and landscapes. He trained initially with his father, Francesco da Ponte the Elder, then in the studio of Bonifacio Veneziano. His mature style, however, followed the example of Titian. Having worked in Venice and other Italian towns, he established a workshop in Bassano with his four sons: Francesco the Younger , Girolamo, Giovanni Battista and Leandro. They shared his style, and some works are difficult to attribute precisely.


While he learnt from other artists of the time, his relationships with them varied, notably when he portrayed Titian as a moneychanger in Purification of the Temple. Other particularly notable works include Jacob’s Return to Canaan, Dives and Lazarus, Acteon and the Nymphs, The Last Supper and Annunciation to the Shepherds.

He died in Bassano.