Happy Halloween, Day 5
Oct. 5th, 2007 04:16 amHappy birthday to
geekqueen! May your day be wonderful and your year to come be the very best yet.
I am off bright and early this morning to Indianapolis to take part in a short conference. I will make my post tomorrow from my hotel!
And now, on with the show:
Links of the Day: The two links for today are Edward Gorey-iffic.

* "The Gashlycrumb Tinies" by Edward Gorey (It's a macabre classic that's always worth revisiting.)
* Gorey Details (Visit this shop for all of your Edward Gorey needs.)
Literature of the Day: This is a truly chilling poem. Don't miss the ending!
"Haunted"
By Louis Untermeyer (1885-1977)
Between the moss and stone
The lonely lilies rise;
Wasted and overgrown
The tangled garden lies.
Weeds climb about the stoop
And clutch the crumbling walls;
The drowsy grasses droop—
The night wind falls.
The place is like a wood;
No sign is there to tell
Where rose and iris stood
That once she loved so well.
Where phlox and asters grew,
A leafless thornbush stands,
And shrubs that never knew
Her tender hands....
Over the broken fence
The moonbeams trail their shrouds;
( Their tattered cerements )
I am off bright and early this morning to Indianapolis to take part in a short conference. I will make my post tomorrow from my hotel!
And now, on with the show:
Links of the Day: The two links for today are Edward Gorey-iffic.

* "The Gashlycrumb Tinies" by Edward Gorey (It's a macabre classic that's always worth revisiting.)
* Gorey Details (Visit this shop for all of your Edward Gorey needs.)
Literature of the Day: This is a truly chilling poem. Don't miss the ending!
"Haunted"
By Louis Untermeyer (1885-1977)
Between the moss and stone
The lonely lilies rise;
Wasted and overgrown
The tangled garden lies.
Weeds climb about the stoop
And clutch the crumbling walls;
The drowsy grasses droop—
The night wind falls.
The place is like a wood;
No sign is there to tell
Where rose and iris stood
That once she loved so well.
Where phlox and asters grew,
A leafless thornbush stands,
And shrubs that never knew
Her tender hands....
Over the broken fence
The moonbeams trail their shrouds;
( Their tattered cerements )