Iceland, though it lies so far to the north that it is partly within the Arctic Circle, is, like Norway, Scotland, and Ireland, affected by the Gulf Stream, so that considerable portions of it are quite habitable.
quote by Harry Johnston
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Remember, the Arctic didn't have any ice. And the Northwest Passage was wide open. They were raising grapes in Scotland for God sakes, had a huge winery. Iceland was a farming community. As some of the glaciers retreated they found villages that were covered with ice.
Ireland.
Written for the Art Autograph during the Irish Famine, 1880.
Heartsome Ireland, winsome Ireland,
Charmer of the sun and sea,
Bright beguiler of old anguish,
How could Famine frown on thee?
As our Gulf-Stream, drawn to thee-ward,
Turns him from his northward flow,
And our wintry western headlands
Send thee summer from their snow,
Thus the main and cordial current
Of our love sets over sea, --
Tender, comely, valiant Ireland,
Songful, soulful, sorrowful Ireland, --
Streaming warm to comfort thee.
poem by Sidney Lanier
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Baltic Fog Notes
Seven days all fog, all mist, and the turbines pounding through high seas.
I was a plaything, a rat’s neck in the teeth of a scuffling mastiff.
Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moon.
Then an afternoon in fjords, low-lying lands scrawled in granite languages on a gray sky,
A night harbor, blue dusk mountain shoulders against a night sky,
And a circle of lights blinking: Ninety thousand people here.
Among the Wednesday night thousands in goloshes and coats slickered for rain,
I learned how hungry I was for streets and people.
I would rather be water than anything else.
I saw a drive of salt fog and mist in the North Atlantic and an iceberg dusky as a cloud in the gray of morning.
And I saw the dream pools of fjords in Norway … and the scarf of dancing water on the rocks and over the edges of mountain shelves.
Bury me in a mountain graveyard in Norway.
Three tongues of water sing around it with snow from the mountains.
Bury me in the North Atlantic.
A fog there from Iceland will be a murmur in gray over me and a long deep wind sob always.
Bury me in an Illinois cornfield.
The blizzards loosen their pipe organ voluntaries in winter stubble and the spring rains and the fall rains bring letters from the sea.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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My point is there's a hidden Scotland in anyone who speaks the Northern Ireland speech. It's a terrific complicating factor, not just in Northern Ireland, but Ireland generally.
quote by Seamus Heaney
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Ireland Shall Rebel
WHILE tyrants rule the land,
Beneath the Irish skies;
While e’er the iron hand
Upon our people lies;
While sons are driven forth
In other lands to dwell,
Still in the South and North
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
While fanlike from below,
And pale against the skies,
That light of shame—the glow
Of burning homes—shall rise;
While hot indignant tears
From Irish hearts shall swell:—
Be it a thousand years,
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
Until the tyrant’s rod
Shall broken be in twain,
And on the dear old sod
Blest freedom treads again;
Or till our masters learn
To rule our country well,
The fires of hate shall burn!—
Old Ireland will rebel!
Rebel, rebel!
Old Ireland will rebel!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Iona: The Graves Of The Kings
I wish not to lie here.
There's hardly a plot of earth not blessed for burial, but here
One might dream badly.
In beautiful seas a beautiful
And sainted island, but the dark earth so shallow on the rock
Gorged with bad meat.
Kings buried in the lee of the saint,
Kings of fierce Norway, blood-boltered Scotland, bitterly dreaming
Treacherous Ireland.
Imagine what delusions of grandeur,
What suspicion-agonized eyes, what jellies of arrogance and terror
This earth has absorbed.
poem by Robinson Jeffers
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For Scotland
Beyond the Cheviots and the Tweed,
Beyond the Firth of Forth,
My memory returns at speed
To Scotland and the North.
For still I keep, and ever shall,
A warm place in my heart for Scotland,
Scotland, Scotland,
A warm place in my heart for Scotland.
Oh, cruel off St. Andrew's Bay
The winds are wont to blow!
They either rest or gently play,
When there in dreams I go.
And there I wander, young again,
With limbs that do not tire,
Along the coast to Kittock's Den,
With whinbloom all afire.
I climb the Spindle Rock, and lie
And take my doubtful ease,
Between the ocean and the sky,
Derided by the breeze.
Where coloured mushrooms thickly grow,
Like flowers of brittle stalk,
To haunted Magus Muir I go,
By Lady Catherine's Walk.
In dreams the year I linger through,
In that familiar town,
Where all the youth I ever knew,
Burned up and flickered down.
There's not a rock that fronts the sea,
There's not an inland grove,
But has a tale to tell to me
Of friendship or of love.
And so I keep, and ever shall,
The best place in my heart for Scotland,
Scotland, Scotland,
The best place in my heart for Scotland!
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
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They Let 'em Fail
Iceland refused to take a loan
From Banksters at the IMF
Instead let banks fail,
Kept the debt...
And sent the loan sharks home
ROTMS
Source: Bloomberg
Iceland’s President Olafur R. Grimsson said his country is better off than Ireland thanks to the government’s decision to allow the banks to fail two years ago and because the krona could be devalued.
“The difference is that in Iceland we allowed the banks to fail, ” Grimsson said in an interview with Bloomberg Television’s Mark Barton today. “These were private banks and we didn’t pump money into them in order to keep them going; the state did not shoulder the responsibility of the failed private banks.”
Ireland’s Prime Minister Brian Cowen said this week his government has discussed an 85 billion-euro ($112 billion) bailout with the European Union and International Monetary Fund after the country’s banks threatened to bring the euro member to the brink of bankruptcy. Iceland’s banks, which still owe creditors about $85 billion, were split to create domestic units needed to keep the financial system running, while foreign liabilities remained within the failed lenders.
As a consequence, “Iceland is faring much better than anybody expected, ” Grimsson said. The Icelandic state’s liability on foreign depositor claims stemming from Icesave accounts at failed Landsbanki Islands hf should be put to a national referendum, he said.
“How far can we ask ordinary people - farmers and fishermen and teachers and doctors and nurses - to shoulder the responsibility of failed private banks, ” said Grimsson. “That question, which has been at the core of the Icesave issue, will now be the burning issue in many European countries.”
poem by Ray Lucero
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Norway
The wonders of Norway!
Age should speak and,
Many years ought to teach wisdom;
Look to the heavens and see,
The clouds are higher than you.
Of the deep sleep that fell unto man while,
He slumbered on his bed;
Oh Norway! Beautiful as you are,
I need to visit you again.
The wonders of Norway,
My days passed swifter than a courrier;
The wonders of Norway,
A momentary perception of joy;
The wonders of Norway,
Out of the handsome came beautiful;
My ears have heard of you and,
My eyes have seen you too;
I need to visit you again.
Can you pull Babylon with a fish hook?
Bring forth the blind who have eyes;
Can you walk on your head?
Bring forth the dearf who have ears;
Visit and know the wonders of Norway,
It will always be with you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Flag Issue at Parkhead in the Fifties
In Scotland in the fifties,
In football terms,
Protest was a blaze
From the grumpy old chairmen,
They took to a cause
That never since has died;
The flying of Ireland’s flag
Over Parkhead’s sky.
So bold Robert Kelly,
Born to Celtic’s dynasty,
Acted upon his heart
And wrote himself into history,
He sat at his desk
With pen in hand,
And wrote a letter, for a favour,
From the Irish PM.
“Dear Mr.DeValera,
How have you been?
Have you been reading the results
Of the bhoys in green?
Our attendance at Parkhead
Improves with every game,
I just wish our football
Would improve the same.”
“I have a small plea,
In this letter I ask,
As Celtic’s being condemned
For flying Ireland’s flag,
We’re proud of the fathers
Who built this club,
Proud of our heritage
As Ireland’s sons.”
“Ireland’s flag,
We’ll never take down,
But protest galore
May be reaching the crown,
So the teams in Scotland
Have gathered as a unit,
And turned the flag issue
Into a game of politics.”
“I took a walk around Parkhead,
It was a sunny day,
And noticed our flag of old,
Is starting to fray,
To the establishment of football,
I would just love to brag,
Can Ireland, our brother,
Deliver Celtic a new flag? ”
The letter was stamped
And mailed to Dublin,
By special delivery
Not carrier pigeon,
And DeValera, in the penmanship
Of Yeats’ ghost,
Wrote, “No problem, son,
It’s in the post.”
Oct'25th 2003
poem by Daniel McDonagh
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6 degrees Celsius
-6 degrees Celsius.
from my balcony,
yes, the atlas
of my balcony,
with the music
of the masters
pouring forth
from within,
I follow the stars
direction Norway
and Sweden
while around the corner
one looks towards Iceland
and 'those islands'.
Kleve is just across the way
and Paris and Brussels
down the road.
this is my mainland!
poem by John O'connell
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Celtic Ray
When lewellyn comes around
And he goes through market town
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready?
When mcmannus comes around
On his early morning rounds
Crying hey...
Youll be on the celtic ray
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
When the coal brick man comes round
On a cold november day
Youll be on the celtic ray
Are you ready? are you ready?
Ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, children
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Listen to me! I want to go home.
Ive been away from the ray too long
Ive been away from the ray too long
All over ireland, scotland, england and wales
I can hear the mothers voices calling
Children, children, come home children
Children, come home on the celtic ray
In the early morning well go walking
Where the light comes shining through
On the celtic ray
Come home children
Come home on the celtic ray
song performed by by Van Morrison
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How She Went To Ireland
Dora’s gone to Ireland
Through the sleet and snow;
Promptly she has gone there
In a ship, although
Why she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
That was where, yea, Ireland,
Dora wished to be:
When she felt, in lone times,
Shoots of misery,
Often there, in Ireland,
Dora wished to be.
Hence she’s gone to Ireland,
Since she meant to go,
Through the drift and darkness
Onward labouring, though
That she’s gone to Ireland
Dora does not know.
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Full Circle
All Ive ever touched or said to them
Becomes a rehearsal for you, just practicing,
Too many magic moments to be coincidence
It all comes full circle
I knew someone who knew you
And he introduced me to you
Your ex-girlfriend had a boyfriend
Who kissed my girlfriend
Who did adrian
The world keeps on getting smaller and smaller
And everything comes back full circle, full circle
Six degrees of separation
We all know someone else
It all comes full circle
And you come from england
My ex-boyfriend, he is indian
British passport, were all connected
And everyone else is affected
The world keeps on getting smaller and smaller
And everything comes back full circle, full circle
Six degrees of separation
We all know someone else
It all comes full circle
It all comes full circle
The world keeps on getting smaller and smaller
And everything comes back full circle, full circle
Six degrees of separation
We all know someone else
It all comes full circle
The world keeps on getting smaller and smaller
And everything comes back full circle, full circle
Six degrees of separation
We all know someone else
It all comes full circle
song performed by by No Doubt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ireland
O WE have loved you through cold and rain
And pitiless frost,
Consuming our offering of blood and brain
Gladly again and again and again,
Though it all seemed lost,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will fight, fight on for you till
Your anguish is past,
The wronged ones righted, the tyrants still. —
Though God has not saved you, yet we will,
At the last, at the last,
Ireland, Ireland!
O we will love you in warmth and light
And the happy day,
When you have forgotten the terrible night,
Standing proud and beautiful bright
For ever and aye,
Ireland, Ireland!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
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Let Us Go
Let us go
Billions of
Habitable earths
Are there.
Let us go
The milky ways
Are with us
On our galactic
Doorsteps
And we are in
habitable zone.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Arctic Moon
Arctic moon—you rise like a cold memory
From the bleak black boiling sea.
Arctic moon—your yellow light dances
With the limber aurora borealis.
Arctic moon—you glide across
A world of darkness and loss.
Arctic moon—you yet reveal
The beauty that winter would conceal.
poem by William Graham
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I know there's some kind of history to mountain music-like it came from Ireland or England or Scotland and we kept up the tradition.
quote by Loretta Lynn
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The point is that these decisions they've made are partly for your convenience and partly for theirs and partly out of stereotypes that they carry with them from the conventions of the computer field.
quote by Ted Nelson
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Dark Winter Blues
The darkness of winter in some parts of the world,
The blues that it brings to make them sick;
But who is able to challenge nature?
Dark winter blues,
From the middle of November to the end of January;
There our hopes lied so low in the North of the Arctic Circle.
Dark winter blues,
To endure the long dark nights of the Arctic winter;
With pastel shades of blue and violet wrapped in the snow.
Snow ballls,
Snow falls;
The dark winter does have negative effects on some people,
But the earth will keep on moving.
Wrapped in the cold of the snow,
With seasonal moods from the winter blues;
But this sadness of winter cannot be wiped away so easily.
There is no place to escape to with this claustrophobic,
But it is a matter of patience to push the days away;
And the orbit of the earth is all that makes the difference.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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