A little bibliophile humor today in honor of the birthday of Peter Mark Roget (1779-1869), author of Roget’s Thesaurus of English Words and Phrases Classified and Arranged so as to Facilitate the Expression of Ideas and Assist in Literary Composition.
When I am gone, don’t you cry for me, Don’t you pity my sorry soul; What pains there might have been will now be past, And my spirit will be whole. I’ll be on my way, I’ll be on my way, I’ll have left my feet of clay upon the ground, I will be glory bound, I’ll be on my way.
When I am gone, please forgive the wrongs That I might have done to you; There’ll be no room for regrets up there, High above, way beyond the blue. I’ll be on my way, I’ll be on way, I’ll have laid my frown and all my burdens down, I’ll be putting on my crown, I’ll be on my way.
When I am gone, don’t you look for me In the places I have been; I’ll be alive, but somewhere else, I’ll be on my way again. I’ll be on my way, I’ll be on my way I’ll lift my wings and soar into the air, There’ll be glory everywhere, I’ll be on way.
I’ll be on my way, I’ll be on my way, I’ll have laid my frown and all my burdens down, I’ll be putting on my crown, I’ll be on my way. I’ll have left my feet of clay upon the ground, I will be glory bound, I’ll be on my way.
Walt showed up late for the card party at the senior center. He blamed it on his poor memory, which seemed to be getting worse with age.
“You know, I used to have that problem too,” said his friend Stan. “But then I went to a memory clinic, and they taught us some really great techniques, like visualization and association, and I haven’t had a problem since.”
“That sounds like just what I need,” said Walt. “What was the name of the clinic?”
Stan’s mind went blank. He thought and thought, and finally he said, “What do you call that flower with the long thorny stem?”
“You mean a rose?” said Walt.
“That’s it!” said Stan. Then he turned to his wife and said, “Hey Rose, what was the name of that memory clinic?”
Wide, worn and weathered, Sacred expanse Of green and white and granite grey; Snowy patches strewn, Anchored to the craggy earth, Unmoving;
While clouds dance Across the vast, eternal sky.
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bluebird of bitterness 