Lay of the Last Minstrel

Canto Sixth
I

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonor'd, and unsung.

II

O California! stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! what mortal hand
Can e'er untie the filial band,
That knits me to thy rugged strand!...

Which is to say, I am, for the next few days, home again. The air smells right, the hills look right, the mix of people is as it should be.

The quality of light is proper, and I feel as if I fit.

Tomorrow the conference, today the restoration of the soul.

(comments at Better than salt money)

Meeting

OK....

The idea of having someone suggest something has been less than effective.

Here is my present plan:

I will be available in the evenings, after the conference.

Sunday I will be in SF: I am meeting someone for lunch in the near vicinity of the 24th St. BART station. I am open to suggestions. I intend, after lunch, to wander about the city, amusing myself, and taking pictures. If you want to meet me, feel free to comment. I will open another post, and screen comments, should you wish to share contact information.

Informations

Reply (comments screened), if you want to give me/get from me, contact info.