satellite image of the earth at night (fused separately)

The Lady of Shalott

The Lady of Shalott
Painting by J.W.Waterhouse
Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson

On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road run by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early,
In among the bearded barley
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly;
Down to tower'd Camelot;
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers, " 'Tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."

There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.

And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot;
Or when the Moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed.
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance --
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' the noises of the night,
She floated down to Camelot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? And what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
But Lancelot mused a little space
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."

Poems : The food for the Heart !

Man first seeks food, then shelter and security. Then comes hunger for the brain and the heart.

Education perhaps suffices to an extent to intimidate the brainy hunger. But literature is the only substitute which has the highest potential to satisfy both. Let's have some poetry.

1. Every Poet

2. Poetry.com

3. The collection of a talented poet

Here is one of my most favoutite poems :

Most wounds can Time repair.
But some are mortal --- these :
For a broken heart there is no balm,
No cure for a heart as ease ---

At ease, but cold as stone.
Though the intellect spin on.
And the feet and practised face may show
Nought of the life that's gone.

But smiles, as by habits taught ;
And sighs, as by customs led ;
And the soul within is safe from damnation,
Since it is dead.

---- Poet is Anonymous

The masterpiece of Leonardo. Now preserved in the Louvre. Check out www.louvre.fr 

Firefox : Revolutionizing Internet Browsing. 

Introducing my second blog : Cyber World

Hello friends,

It's been long that I've entered the cyber realm. Though, to be honest I am very ignorent in this field, but I dream to be a first ranker.

This blog Cyber World is meant to share my lessons learnt in the hard way and also in the soft. However, unlike the present blog Jhal-Muri, Cyber World would be highly technical with almost no so called 'glitz-glamour' associated with it. But people of the cyber realm would surely find some assistance with it.

You are all cordially invited to visit my Cyber World. For your convenience, I have put the link in the list of my favourite links on the right side of this current (main) page.

sincerely,
Vivek Panda

Graphology : An analysis of my character.

Here is a report on my character made on the basis of my hand-writing (approximately). Thanks to Graphology

On the basis of entries you have made the handwriting indicates the following:

He/she is creative in thoughts. The person is very careless about the impressions he/she makes. Material and physical aspects domiante the writer's life.

The writer has an unusual attitude or feeling regarding his/her belongings.

The sample indicates presence of optimism. It seems that there is some diffficulty in expressing emotions and in adapting to various ciscumstances

He/she has a desire for travel, is having a fantasizing nature and is probably quite artistic. He/she possess creative power, enthusiasm and commitments.

The writer has qualities of being a good listener, and is hospitable He/she is a schemer,a hypocrite and is defensive. He/she is a good observer.

He/she is to some extent a reluctant giver, and probably therefor expects a reward from giving.

At the time of writing or at all times, the person seems to have inhibitions, is resentful and for some reason scared of something. This could cause the person to be somewhat hostile.

The person seems to be reasonable, self-cofident, and has a good balance. The sample indicates that the person is a thrifty, and a hasty decision-maker.

He/she seems to have qualities like informality and directness He/she seems to be suffering from depression and fatigue.

It appears that the father had more influence on writer's life. Thewriter has healthy self confidence, and a reaffirmation of the self.

There is an indication of ego, ambition and self-esteem. There is an indication of a more passive at the same time flexible person. The person has a way of expressing insecurity.

The writer has something to hide and is sort of deceitful. The writer probably speaks with a forked tongue and could be lying.

Hurrah ! Introducing RSS Feed for my blog !

Atlast I have succeeded to create a RSS feed for my blog.

Now you can simply add the Feed to your Feedreader software and get all the updates automatically whenever you are online (and the softwareis running on background). Moreover, the Feed is very stylish and provides detailed statistics about the user.

Looking for more technical updates for my blog......

So, am I not growing up?