text:
Part 8 out of 9
While perched in the tallest tree-tops, the birds
Were carolling Mendelssohn's "Songs without Words."
Far from the haunts of men remote,
The brook brawled on with a liquid note;
And Nature, all tranquil and lovely, wore
The smile of the spring, as in Eden of yore.
Little by little, as daylight increased,
And deepened the roseate flush in the East--
Little by little did morning reveal
Two long glittering lines of steel;
Where two hundred thousand bayonets gleam,
Tipped with the light of the earliest beam,
And the faces are sullen and grim to see
In the hostile armies of Grant and Lee.
All of a sudden, ere rose the sun,
Pealed on the silence the opening gun--
A little white puff of smoke there came,
And anon the valley was wreathed in flame.
Down on the left of the Rebel lines,
Where a breastwork stands in a copse of pines,
Before the Rebels their ranks can form,
The Yankees have carried the place by storm.
Stars and Stripes on the salient wave,
Where many a hero has found a grave,
And the gallant Confederates strive in vain
The ground they have drenched with their blood, to regain.
Yet louder the thunder of battle roared--
Yet a deadlier fire on the columns poured;
Slaughter infernal rode with Despair,
Furies twain, through the murky air.
Not far off, in the saddle there sat
A gray-bearded man in a black slouched hat;
Not much moved by the fire was he,
Calm and resolute Robert Lee.
Quick and watchful he kept his eye
On the bold Rebel brigades close by,--
Reserves that were standing (and dying) at ease,
While the tempest of wrath toppled over the trees.
For still with their loud, deep, bull-dog bay,
The Yankee batteries blazed away,
And with every murderous second that sped
A dozen brave fellows, alas! fell dead.
The grand old graybeard rode to the space
Where Death and his victims stood face to face,
And silently waved his old slouched hat--
A world of meaning there was in that!
"Follow me! Steady! We'll save the day!"
This was what he seemed to say;
And to the light of his glorious eye
The bold brigades thus made reply:
"We'll go forward, but you must go back "--
And they moved not an inch in the perilous track:
"Go to the rear, and we'll send them to hell!"
And the sound of the battle was lost in their yell.
Turning his bridle, Robert Lee
Rode to the rear. Like waves of the sea,
Bursting the dikes in their overflow,
Madly his veterans dashed on the foe.
And backward in terror that foe was driven,
Their banners rent and their columns riven,
Wherever the tide of battle rolled
Over the Wilderness, wood and wold.
Sunset out of a crimson sky
Streamed o'er a field of ruddier dye,
And the brook ran on with a purple stain,
From the blood of ten thousand foemen slain.
Seasons have passed since that day and year--
Again o'er its pebbles the brook runs clear,
And the field in a richer green is drest
Where the dead of a terrible conflict rest.
Hushed is the roll of the Rebel drum,
The sabres are sheathed, and the cannon are dumb;
And Fate, with his pitiless hand, has furled
The flag that once challenged the gaze of the world;
But the fame of the Wilderness fight abides;
And down into history grandly rides,
Calm and unmoved as in battle he sat,
The gray-bearded man in the black slouched hat.
* * * * *
Out of the clover and blue-eyed grass
He turned them into the river-lane;
One after another he let them pass,
Then fastened the meadow bars again.
Under the willows, and over the hill,
He patiently followed their sober pace;
The merry whistle for once was still,
And something shadowed the sunny face.
Only a boy! and his father had said
He never could let his youngest go;
Two already were lying dead
Under the feet of the trampling foe.
But after the evening work was done,
And the frogs were loud in the meadow-swamp,
Over his shoulder he slung his gun
And stealthily followed the foot-path damp,
Across the clover and through the wheat
With resolute heart and purpose grim,
Though cold was the dew on his hurrying feet,
And the blind bat's flitting startled him.
Thrice since then had the lanes been white,
And the orchards sweet with apple-bloom;
And now, when the cows came back at night,
The feeble father drove them home.
For news had come to the lonely farm
That three were lying where two had lain;
And the old man's tremulous, palsied arm
Could never lean on a son's again.
The summer day grew cool and late,
He went for the cows when the work was done;
But down the lane, as he opened the gate,
He saw them coming one by one,--
Brindle, Ebony, Speckle, and Bess,
Shaking their horns in the evening wind;
Cropping the buttercups out of the grass,--
But who was it following close behind?
Loosely swung in the idle air
The empty sleeve of army blue;
And worn and pale, from the crisping hair,
Looked out a face that the father knew.
For gloomy prisons will sometimes yawn,
And yield their dead unto life again;
And the day that comes with a cloudy dawn
In golden glory at last may wane.
The great tears sprang to their meeting eyes;
For the heart must speak when the lips are dumb;
And under the silent evening skies
Together they followed the cattle home.
* * * * *
[Footnote A: This song was sung by thousands of Sherman's soldiers
after the march, and had the honor of giving its name to the campaign
it celebrates. Its author had been one of Sherman's army, and was
captured at the battle of Chattanooga. While a prisoner he escaped,
disguised himself in a Confederate uniform, went to the Southern army,
and witnessed some of the fierce fighting about Atlanta. He was
discovered and sent back to prison at Columbia, S.C., where he wrote
the song. He soon escaped again, rejoined Sherman's army, and for a
time served on General Sherman's staff. From Cape Fear River he was
sent North with despatches to Grant and President Lincoln, bringing
the first news of Sherman's successes in the Carolinas.]
[May 4 to December 21, 1864.]
Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountains
That frowned on the river below,
While we stood by our guns in the morning
And eagerly watched for the foe,
When a rider came out of the darkness
That hung over the mountain and tree,
And shouted, "Boys, up and be ready!
For Sherman will march to the sea."
Then cheer upon cheer for bold Sherman
Went up from each valley and glen,
And the bugles re-echoed the music
That came from the lips of the men;
For we knew that the stars in our banner
More bright in their splendor would be,
And that blessings from Northland would greet us
When Sherman marched down to the sea.
Then forward, boys, forward to battle,
We marched on our wearisome way,
We stormed the wild hills of Resaca;
God bless those who fell on that day!
Then Kenesaw, dark in its glory,
Frowned down on the flag of the free,
But the East and the West bore our standards,
And Sherman marched on to the sea.
Still onward we pressed, till our banners
Swept out from Atlanta's grim walls,
And the blood of the patriot dampened
The soil where the traitor flag falls;
Yet we paused not to weep for the fallen,
Who slept by each river and tree;
We twined them a wreath of the laurel
As Sherman marched down to the sea.
Oh! proud was our army that morning,
That stood where the pine darkly towers,
When Sherman said: "Boys, you are weary;
This day fair Savannah is ours!"
Then sang we a song for our chieftain,
That echoed o'er river and lea,
And the stars in our banner shone brighter
When Sherman marched down to the sea.
* * * * *
Ho! pony. Down the lonely road
Strike now your cheeriest pace!
The woods on fire do not burn higher
Than burns my anxious face;
Far have you sped, but all this night
Must feel my nervous spur;
If we be late, the world must wait
The tidings we aver:--
To home and hamlet, town and hearth,
To thrill child, mother, man,
I carry to the waiting North
Great news from Sheridan!
The birds are dead among the pines,
Slain by the battle fright,
Prone in the road the steed reclines
That never readied the fight;
Yet on we go,--the wreck below
Of many a tumbled wain,--
By ghastly pools where stranded mules
Die, drinking of the rain;
With but my list of killed and missed
I spur my stumbling nag,
To tell of death at many a tryst,
But victory to the flag!
"Halt! who comes there? The countersign!"--
"A friend."--"Advance! The fight,--
How goes it, say?"--"We won the day!"--
"Huzza! Pass on!"--"Good-night!"--
And parts the darkness on before,
And down the mire we tramp,
And the black sky is painted o'er
With many a pulsing camp;
O'er stumps and ruts, by ruined huts,
Where ghosts look through the gloam,--
Behind my tread I hear the dead
Follow the news toward home!
The hunted souls I see behind,
In swamp and in ravine,
Whose cry for mercy thrills the wind
Till cracks the sure carbine;
The moving lights, which scare the dark,
And show the trampled place
Where, in his blood, some mother's bud
Turns up his young, dead face;
The captives spent, whose standards rent
The conqueror parades,
As at the Five Forks roads arrive
The General's dashing aides.
O wondrous Youth! through this grand ruth
Runs my boy's life its thread;
The General's fame, the battle's name,
The rolls of maimed and dead
I bear, with my thrilled soul astir,
And lonely thoughts and fears;
And am but History's courier
To bind the conquering years;
A battle-ray, through ages gray
To light to deeds sublime,
And flash the lustre of this day
Down all the aisles of Time!
Ho! pony,--'tis the signal gun
The night-assault decreed;
On Petersburg the thunderbolts
Crash from the lines of Meade;
Fade the pale, frightened stars o'erhead,
And shrieks the bursting air;
The forest foliage, tinted red,
Grows ghastlier in the glare;
Though in her towers, reached her last hours,
Rocks proud Rebellion's crest--
The world may sag, if but my nag
Get in before the rest!
With bloody flank, and fetlocks dank,
And goad, and lash, and shout--
Great God! as every hoof-beat falls
A hundred lives beat out!
As weary as this broken steed
Reels down the corduroys,
So, weary, fight for morning light
Our hot and grimy boys;
Through ditches wet, o'er parapet
And guns barbette, they catch
The last, lost breach; and I,--I reach
The mail with my despatch!
Sure it shall speed, the land to read,
As sped the happiest shell!
The shot I send strike the world's end;
_This_ tells my pony's knell;
His long race run, the long war done,
My occupation gone,--
Above his bier, prone on the pier,
The vultures fleck the dawn.
Still, rest his bones where soldiers dwell,
Till the Long Roll they catch.
He fell the day that Richmond fell,
And took the first despatch!
* * * * *
[Footnote A: Sung by negro troops when entering Richmond. George Gary
Eggleston, in his collection of "American War Ballads," says that it
soon found favor among the people and "was sung with applause by young
men and maidens in well-nigh every house in Virginia."]
Say, darkeys, hab you seen de massa,
Wid de muffstash on he face,
Go long de road some time dis mornin',
Like he gwine leabe de place?
He see de smoke way up de ribber
Whar de Lincum gunboats lay;
He took he hat an' leff berry sudden,
And I spose he's runned away.
De massa run, ha, ha!
De darkey stay, ho, ho!
It mus' be now de kingdum comin',
An' de yar ob jubilo.
He six foot one way an' two foot todder,
An' he weigh six hundred poun';
His coat so big he couldn't pay de tailor,
An' it won't reach half way roun';
He drill so much dey calls him cap'n,
An he git so mighty tanned,
I spec he'll try to fool dem Yankees,
For to tink he contraband,
De massa run, ha, ha!
De darkey stay, ho, ho!
It mus' be now de kingdum comin',
An' de yar ob jubilo.
De darkeys got so lonesome libb'n
In de log hut on de lawn,
Dey moved dere tings into massa's parlor
For to keep it while he gone.
Dar's wine an' cider in de kitchin,
An' de darkeys dey hab some,
I spec it will be all fiscated,
When de Lincum sojers come.
De massa run, ha, ha!
De darkey stay, ho, ho!
It mus' be now de kingdum comin',
An' de yar ob jubilo.
De oberseer he makes us trubble,
An' he dribe us roun' a spell,
We lock him up in de smoke-house cellar,
Wid de key flung in de well.
De whip am lost, de han'-cuff broke,
But de massy hab his pay;
He big an' ole enough for to know better
Dan to went an' run away.
De massa run, ha, ha!
De darkey stay, ho, ho!
It mus' be now de kingdum comin',
An' de yar ob jubilo.
* * * * *
Furl that Banner, for 'tis weary;
Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary:
Furl it, fold it,--it is best;
For there's not a man to wave it,
And there's not a sword to save it,
And there's not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it,
And its foes now scorn and brave it:
Furl it, hide it,--let it rest!
Take that Banner down! 'tis tattered;
Broken is its staff and shattered;
And the valiant hosts are scattered,
Over whom it floated high.
Oh, 'tis hard for us to fold it,
Hard to think there's none to hold it,
Hard that those who once unrolled it
Now must furl it with a sigh!
Furl that Banner--furl it sadly!
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave;
Swore that foeman's sword should never
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
Till that flag should float forever
O'er their freedom or their grave!
Furl it! for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;
And that Banner--it is trailing,
While around it sounds the wailing
Of its people in their woe.
For, though conquered, they adore it,--
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it,
Weep for those who fell before it,
Pardon those who trailed and tore it;
And oh, wildly they deplore it,
Now to furl and fold it so!
Furl that Banner! True, 'tis gory,
Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory,
And 't will live in song and story
Though its folds are in the dust!
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages--
Furl its folds though now we must.
Furl that Banner, softly, slowly!
Treat it gently--it is holy,
For it droops above the dead.
Touch it not--unfold it never;
Let it droop there, furled forever,--
For its people's hopes are fled!
* * * * *
There hangs a sabre, and there a rein,
With a rusty buckle and green curb chain;
A pair of spurs on the old gray wall,
And a mouldy saddle--well, that is all.
Come out to the stable--it is not far;
The moss grown door is hanging ajar.
Look within! There's an empty stall,
Where once stood a charger, and that is all.
The good black horse came riderless home,
Flecked with blood drops as well as foam;
See yonder hillock where dead leaves fall;
The good black horse pined to death--that's all.
All? O, God! it is all I can speak.
Question me not--I am old and weak;
His sabre and his saddle hang on the wall,
And his horse pined to death--I have told you all.
* * * * *
Within the sober realm of leafless trees,
The russet year inhaled the dreamy air;
Like some tanned reaper, in his hour of ease,
When all the fields are lying brown and bare.
The gray barns looking from their hazy hills,
O'er the dun waters widening in the vales,
Sent down the air a greeting to the mills
On the dull thunder of alternate flails.
All sights were mellowed and all sounds subdued,
The hills seemed further and the stream sang low,
As in a dream the distant woodman hewed
His winter log with many a muffled blow.
The embattled forests, erewhile armed with gold,
Their banners bright with every martial hue,
Now stood like some sad, beaten host of old,
Withdrawn afar in Time's remotest blue.
On slumb'rous wings the vulture held his flight;
The dove scarce heard its sighing mate's complaint;
And, like a star slow drowning in the light,
The village church-vane seemed to pale and faint.
The sentinel-cock upon the hillside crew,--
Crew thrice,--and all was stiller than before;
Silent, till some replying warden blew
His alien horn, and then was heard no more.
Where erst the jay, within the elm's tall crest,
Made garrulous trouble round her unfledged young;
And where the oriole hung her swaying nest,
By every light wind like a censer swung;--
Where sang the noisy martens of the eaves,
The busy swallows circling ever near,--
Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes,
An early harvest and a plenteous year;--
Where every bird which charmed the vernal feast
Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at morn,
To warn the reaper of the rosy east:--
All now was sunless, empty, and forlorn.
Alone from out the stubble piped the quail,
And croaked the crow through all the dreamy gloom;
Alone the pheasant, drumming in the vale,
Made echo to the distant cottage-loom.
There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers;
The spiders moved their thin shrouds night by night,
The thistle-down, the only ghost of flowers,
Sailed slowly by,--passed noiseless out of sight.
Amid all this--in this most cheerless air,
And where the woodbine shed upon the porch
Its crimson leaves, as if the Year stood there
Firing the floor with his inverted torch,--
Amid all this, the centre of the scene,
The white-haired matron with monotonous tread
Plied the swift wheel, and with her joyless mien
Sat, like a fate, and watched the flying thread,
She had known Sorrow,--he had walked with her,
Oft supped, and broke the bitter ashen crust;
And in the dead leaves still she heard the stir
Of his black mantle trailing in the dust.
While yet her cheek was bright with summer bloom,
Her country summoned and she gave her all;
And twice War bowed to her his sable plume,--
Re-gave the swords to rust upon the wall.
Re-gave the swords, but not the hand that drew
And struck for Liberty the dying blow;
Nor him who, to his sire and country true,
Fell mid the ranks of the invading foe.
Long, but not loud, the droning wheel went on,
Like the low murmur of a hive at noon;
Long, but not loud, the memory of the gone
Breathed through her lips a sad and tremulous tune.
At last the thread was snapped; her head was bowed;
Life dropt the distaff through his hands serene;
And loving neighbors smoothed her careful shroud,
While Death and Winter closed the autumn scene.
* * * * *
[The Spanish-American War, 1898.]
A cheer and salute for the Admiral, and here's to the Captain bold,
And never forget the Commodore's debt when the deeds of might are
They stand to the deck through the battle's wreck when the great
shells roar and screech--
And never they fear when the foe is near to practise what they
But off with your hat and three times three for Columbia's true-blue
The men below who batter the foe--the men behind the guns!
Oh, light and merry of heart are they when they swing into port once
When, with more than enough of the "green-backed stuff," they start
for their leave-o'-shore;
And you'd think, perhaps, that the blue-bloused chaps who loll along
the street
Are a tender bit, with salt on it, for some fierce "mustache" to
Some warrior bold, with straps of gold, who dazzles and fairly stuns
The modest worth of the sailor boys--the lads who serve the guns.
But say not a word till the shot is heard that tells the fight is
Till the long, deep roar grows more and more from the ships of
"Yank" and "Don,"
Till over the deep the tempests sweep of fire and bursting shell,
And the very air is a mad Despair in the throes of a living hell;
Then down, deep down, in the mighty ship, unseen by the midday suns,
You'll find the chaps who are giving the raps--the men behind the
Oh, well they know how the cyclones blow that they loose from their
cloud of death,
And they know is heard the thunder-word their fierce ten-incher
The steel decks rock with the lightning shock, and shake with the
great recoil,
And the sea grows red with the blood of the dead and reaches for his
But not till the foe has gone below or turns his prow and runs,
Shall the voice of peace bring sweet release to the men behind the
* * * * *
[May I, 1898.]
By Cavite on the bay
'Twas the Spanish squadron lay;
And the red dawn was creeping
O'er the city that lay sleeping
To the east, like a bride, in the May.
There was peace at Manila,
In the May morn at Manila,--
When ho, the Spanish admiral
Awoke to find our line
Had passed by gray Corregidor,
Had laughed at shoal and mine,
And flung to the sky its banners
With "Remember" for the sign!
With the ships of Spain before
In the shelter of the shore,
And the forts on the right,
They drew forward to the fight,
And the first was the gallant Commodore;
In the bay of Manila,
In the doomed bay of Manila--
With succor half the world away,
No port beneath that sky,
With nothing but their ships and guns
And Yankee pluck to try,
They had left retreat behind them,
They had come to win or die!
* * * * *
For we spoke at Manila,
We said it at Manila,
Oh be ye brave, or be ye strong,
Ye build your ships in vain;
The children of the sea queen's brood
Will not give up the main;
We hold the sea against the world
As we held it against Spain.
Be warned by Manila,
Take warning by Manila,
Ye may trade by land, ye may fight by land,
Ye may hold the land in fee;
But not go down to the sea in ships
To battle with the free;
For England and America
Will keep and hold the sea!
* * * * *
* * * * *
Daughter of God! that sitt'st on high
Amid the dances of the sky,
And guidest with thy gentle sway
The planets on their tuneful way;
Sweet Peace! shall ne'er again
The smile of thy most holy face,
From thine ethereal dwelling-place,
Rejoice the wretched, weary race
Of discord-breathing men?
Too long, O gladness-giving Queen!
Thy tarrying in heaven has been;
Too long o'er this fair blooming world
The flag of blood has been unfurled,
Polluting God's pure day;
Whilst, as each maddening people reels,
War onward drives his scythed wheels,
And at his horses' bloody heels
Shriek Murder and Dismay.
Oft have I wept to hear the cry
Of widow wailing bitterly;
To see the parent's silent tear
For children fallen beneath the spear;
And I have felt so sore
The sense of human guilt and woe,
That I, in Virtue's passioned glow,
Have cursed (my soul was wounded so)
The shape of man I bore!
Then come from thy serene abode,
Thou gladness-giving child of God!
And cease the world's ensanguined strife,
And reconcile my soul to life;
For much I long to see,
Ere I shall to the grave descend,
Thy hand its blessed branch extend,
And to the world's remotest end
Wave Love and Harmony!
* * * * *
Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York,
And all the clouds that lowered upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged War hath smoothed his wrinkled front.
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
* * * * *
"Put up the sword!" the voice of Christ once more
Speaks, in the pauses of the cannon's roar,
O'er fields of corn by fiery sickles reaped
And left dry ashes; over trenches heaped
With nameless dead; o'er cities starving slow
Under a rain of fire; through wards of woe
Down which a groaning diapason runs
From tortured brothers, husbands, lovers, sons
Of desolate women in their far-off homes,
Waiting to hear the step that never comes!
O men and brothers! let that voice be heard.
War fails, try peace; put up the useless sword!
Fear not the end. There is a story told
In Eastern tents, when autumn nights grow cold,
And round the fire the Mongol shepherds sit
With grave responses listening unto it:
Once on the errands of his mercy bent,
Buddha, the holy and benevolent,
Met a fell monster, huge and fierce of look,
Whose awful voice the hills and forests shook.
"O son of peace!" the giant cried, "thy fate
Is sealed at last, and love shall yield to hate."
The unarmed Buddha looking, with no trace
Of fear or anger, in the monster's face,
In pity said, "Poor fiend, even thee I love."
Lo! as he spake the sky-tall terror sank
To hand-breadth size; the huge abhorrence shrank
Into the form and fashion of a dove;
And where the thunder of its rage was heard,
Circling above him sweetly sang the bird:
"Hate hath no harm for love," so ran the song,
"And peace unweaponed conquers every wrong!"
* * * * *
Old Tubal Cain was a man of might,
In the days when earth was young;
By the fierce red light of his furnace bright,
The strokes of his hammer rung:
And he lifted high his brawny hand
On the iron glowing clear,
Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers,
As he fashioned the sword and the spear.
And he sang: "Hurrah for my handiwork!
Hurrah for the spear and the sword!
Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well,
For he shall be king and lord."
To Tubal Cain came many a one,
As he wrought by his roaring fire,
And each one prayed for a strong steel blade
As the crown of his desire:
And he made them weapons sharp and strong,
Till they shouted loud for glee,
And gave him gifts of pearl and gold,
And spoils of the forest free.
And they sang: "Hurrah for Tubal Cain,
Who hath given us strength anew!
Hurrah for the smith, hurrah for the fire,
And hurrah for the metal true!"
But a sudden change came o'er his heart,
Ere the setting of the sun,
And Tubal Cain was filled with pain
For the evil he had done;
He saw that men, with rage and hate,
Made war upon their kind,
That the land was red with the blood they shed,
In their lust for carnage blind.
And he said: "Alas! that ever I made,
Or that skill of mine should plan,
The spear and the sword for men whose joy
Is to slay their fellow-man!"
And for many a day old Tubal Cain
Sat brooding o'er his woe;
And his hand forbore to smite the ore,
And his furnace smouldered low.
But he rose at last with a cheerful face,
And a bright courageous eye,
And bared his strong right arm for work,
While the quick flames mounted high.
And he sang: "Hurrah for my handiwork!"
And the red sparks lit the air;
"Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,"--
And he fashioned the first ploughshare.
And men, taught wisdom from the past,
In friendship joined their hands,
Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall,
And ploughed the willing lands;
And sang: "Hurrah for Tubal Cain!
Our stanch good friend is he;
And for the ploughshare and the plough
To him our praise shall be.
But while oppression lifts its head,
Or a tyrant would be lord,
Though we may thank him for the plough,
We'll not forget the sword!"
* * * * *
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O'Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be?--
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch-tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone,
Is gone,--and the birch in its stead is grown.--
The knight's bones are dust,
And his good sword rust;--
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
* * * * *
"To fall on the battle-field fighting for my dear country,--that would
not be hard."--_The Neighbors_.
O no, no,--let me lie
Not on a field of battle when I die!
Let not the iron tread
Of the mad war-horse crush my helmed head;
Nor let the reeking knife,
That I have drawn against a brother's life,
Be in my hand when Death
Thunders along, and tramples me beneath
His heavy squadron's heels,
Or gory felloes of his cannon's wheels.
From such a dying bed,
Though o'er it float the stripes of white and red,
And the bald eagle brings
The clustered stars upon his wide-spread wings
To sparkle in my sight,
O, never let my spirit take her flight!
I know that beauty's eye
Is all the brighter where gay pennants fly,
And brazen helmets dance,
And sunshine flashes on the lifted lance;
I know that bards have sung,
And people shouted till the welkin rung,
In honor of the brave
Who on the battle-field have found a grave;
I know that o'er their bones
How grateful hands piled monumental stones.
Some of those piles I've seen:
The one at Lexington upon the green
Where the first blood was shed,
And to my country's independence led;
And others, on our shore,
The "Battle Monument" at Baltimore,
And that on Bunker's Hill.
Ay, and abroad, a few more famous still;
Thy "tomb," Themistocles,
That looks out yet upon the Grecian seas,
And which the waters kiss
That issue from the gulf of Salamis.
And thine, too, have I seen,
Thy mound of earth, Patroclus, robed in green,
That, like a natural knoll,
Sheep climb and nibble over as they stroll,
Watched by some turbaned boy,
Upon the margin of the plain of Troy.
Such honors grace the bed,
I know, whereon the warrior lays his head,
And hears, as life ebbs out,
The conquered flying, and the conqueror's shout;
But as his eye grows dim,
What is a column or a mound to him?
What, to the parting soul.
The mellow note of bugles? What the roll
Of drums? No, let me die
Where the blue heaven bends o'er me lovingly,
And the soft summer air,
As it goes by me, stirs my thin white hair,
And from my forehead dries
The death-damp as it gathers, and the skies
Seem waiting to receive
My soul to their clear depths! Or let me leave
The world when round my bed
Wife, children, weeping friends are gathered,
And the calm voice of prayer
And holy hymning shall my soul prepare
To go and be at rest
With kindred spirits,--spirits who have blessed
The human brotherhood
By labors, cares, and counsels for their good.
* * * * *
Come hither lads and hearken,
for a tale there is to tell,
Of the wonderful days a-coming,
when all shall be better than well.
And the tale shall be told of a country,
a land in the midst of the sea,
And folk shall call it England
in the days that are going to be.
There more than one in a thousand,
in the days that are yet to come,
Shall have some hope of the morrow,
some joy of the ancient home.
For then--laugh not, but listen
to this strange tale of mine--
All folk that are in England
shall be better lodged than swine.
Then a man shall work and bethink him,
and rejoice in the deeds of his hand;
Nor yet come home in the even
too faint and weary to stand.
Men in that time a-coming
shall work and have no fear
For to-morrow's lack of earning,
and the hunger-Wolf anear.
I tell you this for a wonder,
that no man then shall be glad
Of his fellow's fall and mishap,
to snatch at the work he had.
For that which the worker winneth
shall then be his indeed,
Nor shall half be reaped for nothing
by him that sowed no seed.
Oh, strange new wonderful justice!
But for whom shall we gather the gain?
For ourselves and for each of our fellows,
and no hand shall labor in vain.
Then all Mine and all Thine shall be Ours,
and no more shall any man crave
For riches that serve for nothing
but to fetter a friend for a slave.
And what wealth then shall be left us,
when none shall gather gold
To buy his friend in the market,
and pinch and pine the sold?
Nay, what save the lovely city,
and the little house on the hill,
And the wastes and the woodland beauty,
and the happy fields we till;
And the homes of ancient stories,
the tombs of the mighty dead;
And the wise men seeking out marvels,
and the poet's teeming head;
And the painter's hand of wonder,
and the marvellous fiddle-bow,
And the banded choirs of music:
all those that do and know.
For all these shall be ours and all men's;
nor shall any lack a share
Of the toil and the gain of living,
in the days when the world grows fair.
Ah! such are the days that shall be!
But what are the deeds of to-day,
In the days of the years we dwell in,
that wear our lives away?
Why, then, and for what are we waiting?
There are three words to speak:
_We will it_, and what is the foeman
but the dream-strong wakened and weak?
Oh, why and for what are we waiting,
while our brothers droop and die,
And on every wind of the heavens
a wasted life goes by?
How long shall they reproach us,
where crowd on crowd they dwell,--
Poor ghosts of the wicked city,
the gold-crushed hungry hell?
Through squalid life they labored,
in sordid grief they died,--
Those sons of a mighty mother,
those props of England's pride.
They are gone; there is none can undo it,
nor save our souls from the curse:
But many a million cometh,
and shall they be better or worse?
It is we must answer and hasten,
and open wide the door
For the rich man's hurrying terror,
and the slow-foot hope of the poor.
Yea, the voiceless wrath of the wretched,
and their unlearned discontent,--
We must give it voice and wisdom
till the waiting-tide be spent.
Come then, since all things call us,
the living and the dead,
And o'er the weltering tangle
a glimmering light is shed.
Come then, let us cast off fooling,
and put by ease and rest,
For the Cause alone is worthy
till the good days bring the best.
Come, join in the only battle
wherein no man can fail,
Where whoso fadeth and dieth,
yet his deed shall still prevail.
Ah! come, cast off all fooling,
for this, at least, we know:
That the dawn and the day is coming,
and forth the banners go.
* * * * *
On a lone barren isle, where the wild roaring billows
Assail the stern rock, and the loud tempests rave,
The hero lies still, while the dew-drooping willows,
Like fond weeping mourners, lean over the grave.
The lightnings may flash, and the loud thunders rattle:
He heeds not, he hears not, he's free from all pain;--
He sleeps his last sleep--he has fought his last battle!
No sound can awake him to glory again!
O shade of the mighty, where now are the legions
That rushed but to conquer when thou led'st them on?
Alas! they have perished in far hilly regions,
And all save the fame of their triumph is gone!
The trumpet may sound, and the loud cannon rattle!
They heed not, they hear not, they're free from all pain:
They sleep their last sleep, they have fought their last battle!
No sound can awake them to glory again!
Yet, spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee,
For, like thine own eagle that soared to the sun,
Thou springest from bondage and leavest behind thee
A name which before thee no mortal had won.
Though nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle,
No more on the steed wilt thou sweep o'er the plain:
Thou sleep'st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle!
No sound can awake thee to glory again!
* * * * *
[In Bavaria, August 13, 1704, between the English and Austrians on one
side, under the Duke of Marlborough and Prince Eugene, and the French
and Bavarians on the other side, led by Marshal Tallart and the
Elector of Bavaria. The latter party was defeated, and the schemes of
Louis XIV. of France were materially checked.]
It was a summer evening,--
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun;
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet,
In playing there, had found;
He came to ask what he had found
That was so large and smooth and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And, with a natural sigh,--
"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory.
"I find them in the garden,
For there's many hereabout;
And often, when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out;
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in the great victory."
"Now tell us what 'twas all about."
Young Peterkin he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes,--
"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for."
"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for
I could not well make out;
But everybody said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory.
"My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.
"With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide;
And many a childing mother there,
And new-born baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
"They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won,--
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know must be
After a famous victory.
"Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won,
And our good Prince Eugene."
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.
"Nay, nay, my little girl!" quoth he,
"It was a famous victory.
"And everybody praised the duke
Who this great fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he;
"But 'twas a famous victory."
* * * * *
England, I stand on thy imperial ground
Not all a stranger; as thy bugles blow,
I feel within my blood old battles flow,--
The blood whose ancient founts are in thee found
Still surging dark against the Christian bound
While Islam presses; well its peoples know
Thy heights that watch them wandering below:
I think how Lucknow heard their gathering sound.
I turn and meet the cruel, turbaned face.
England! 'tis sweet to be so much thy son!
I feel the conqueror in my blood and race;
Last night Trafalgar awed me, and to-day
Gibraltar wakened; hark, thy evening gun
Startles the desert over Africa.
Thou art the rock of empire set mid-seas
Between the East and West, that God has built;
Advance thy Roman borders where thou wilt,
While run thy armies true with his decrees;
Law, justice, liberty,--great gifts are these.
Watch that they spread where English blood is spilt,
Lest, mixed and sullied with his country's guilt
The soldier's life-stream flow, and Heaven displease!
Two swords there are: one naked, apt to smite,
Thy blade of war; and, battle-storied, one
Rejoices in the sheath, and hides from light.
American I am; would wars were done!
Now westward, look, my country bids good night,--
Peace to the world, from ports without a gun!
* * * * *
[Dedication of a monument to Kentucky volunteers, killed at Buena
Vista, Mexico.]
The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on Life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.
No rumor of the foe's advance
Now swells upon the wind;
No troubled thought at midnight haunts
Of loved ones left behind;
No vision of the morrow's strife
The warrior's dream alarms;
No braying horn nor screaming fife
At dawn shall call to arms.
Their shivered swords are red with rust,
Their plumed heads are bowed;
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust,
Is now their martial shroud.
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
The red stains from each brow,
And the proud forms, by battle gashed,
Are free from anguish now.
The neighing troop, the flashing blade,
The bugle's stirring blast,
The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
The din and shout, are past;
Nor war's wild note nor glory's peal
Shall thrill with fierce delight
Those breasts that nevermore may feel
The rapture of the fight.
Like the fierce northern hurricane
That sweeps his great plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,
Came down the serried foe.
Who heard the thunder of the fray
Break o'er the field beneath,
Knew well the watchword of that day
Was "Victory or Death."
Long had the doubtful conflict raged
O'er all that stricken plain,
For never fiercer fight had waged
The vengeful blood of Spain;
And still the storm of battle blew,
Still swelled the gory tide;
Not long, our stout old chieftain knew,
Such odds his strength could bide.
'Twas in that hour his stern command
Called to a martyr's grave
The flower of his beloved land,
The nation's flag to save.
By rivers of their fathers' gore
His first-born laurels grew,
And well he deemed the sons would pour
Their lives for glory too.
Full many a norther's breath has swept
O'er Angostura's plain,
And long the pitying sky has wept
Above its mouldered slain.
The raven's scream, or eagle's flight,
Or shepherd's pensive lay,
Alone awakes each sullen height
That frowned o'er that dread fray.
Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground,
Ye must not slumber there,
Where stranger steps and tongues resound
Along the heedless air.
Your own proud land's heroic soil
Shall be your fitter grave:
She claims from war his richest spoil--
The ashes of her brave.
Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest,
Far from the gory field,
Borne to a Spartan mother's breast
On many a bloody shield;
The sunshine of their native sky
Smiles sadly on them here,
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
The heroes' sepulchre.
Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead!
Dear as the blood ye gave;
No impious footstep here shall tread
The herbage of your grave;
Nor shall your glory be forgot
While Fame her record keeps,
Or Honor points the hallowed spot
Where Valor proudly sleeps.
Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone
In deathless song shall tell,
When many a vanished age hath flown,
The story how ye fell;
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight,
Nor Time's remorseless doom.
Shall dim one ray of glory's light
That gilds your deathless tomb.
* * * * *
This is the arsenal. From floor to ceiling,
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;
But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing
Startles the villages with strange alarms.
Ah! what a sound will rise--how wild and dreary--
When the death-angel touches those swift keys!
What loud lament and dismal miserere
Will mingle with their awful symphonies!
I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus--
The cries of agony, the endless groan,
Which, through the ages that have gone before us,
In long reverberations reach our own.
On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer;
Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song;
And loud amid the universal clamor,
O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong.
I hear the Florentine, who from his palace
Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din;
And Aztec priests upon their teocallis
Beat the wild war-drums made of serpents' skin;
The tumult of each sacked and burning village;
The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns;
The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage;
The wail of famine in beleaguered towns;
The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder,
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade--
And ever and anon, in tones of thunder,
The diapason of the cannonade.
Is it, O man, with such discordant noises,
With such accursed instruments as these,
Thou drownest nature's sweet and kindly voices,
And jarrest the celestial harmonies?
Were half the power that fills the world with terror,
Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts,
Given to redeem the human mind from error,
There were no need of arsenals nor forts;
The warrior's name would be a name abhorred;
And every nation that should lift again
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead
Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain!
Down the dark future, through long generations,
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease;
And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,
I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!"
Peace!--and no longer from its brazen portals
The blast of war's great organ shakes the skies;
But, beautiful as songs of the immortals,
The holy melodies of love arise.
* * * * *
The softest whisperings of the scented South,
And rust and roses in the cannon's mouth;
And, where the thunders of the fight were born,
The wind's sweet tenor in the standing corn;
With song of larks, low-lingering in the loam,
And blue skies bending over love and home.
But still the thought: Somewhere,--upon the hills,
Or where the vales ring with the whip-poor-wills,
Sad wistful eyes and broken hearts that beat
For the loved sound of unreturning feet,
And, when the oaks their leafy banners wave,
Dream of the battle and an unmarked grave!
* * * * *
Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands,
Were trampled by a hurrying crowd,
And fiery hearts and armed hands
Encountered in the battle-cloud.
Ah! never shall the land forget
How gushed the life-blood of her brave,--
Gushed, warm with hope and courage yet,
Upon the soil they fought to save.
Now all is calm and fresh and still;
Alone the chirp of flitting bird,
And talk of children on the hill,
And bell of wandering kine, are heard.
No solemn host goes trailing by
The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain;
Men start not at the battle-cry,--
O, be it never heard again!
Soon rested those who fought; but thou
Who minglest in the harder strife
For truths which men receive not now,
Thy warfare only ends with life.
A friendless warfare! lingering long
Through weary day and weary year;
A wild and many-weaponed throng
Hang on thy front and flank and rear.
Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof,
And blench not at thy chosen lot;
The timid good may stand aloof,
The sage may frown,--yet faint thou not.
Nor heed the shaft too surely cast,
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn;
For with thy side shall dwell, at last,
The victory of endurance born.
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again,--
The eternal years of God are hers;
But Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
And dies among his worshippers.
Yea, though thou lie upon the dust,
When they who helped thee flee in fear,
Die full of hope and manly trust,
Like those who fell in battle here!
Another hand thy sword shall wield,
Another hand the standard wave,
Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed
The blast of triumph o'er thy grave.
* * * * *
How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
* * * * *
The angel of the nation's peace
Has wreathed with flowers the battle-drum;
We see the fruiting fields increase
Where sound of war no more shall come.
The swallow skims the Tennessee,
Soft winds play o'er the Rapidan;
There only echo notes of glee,
Where gleamed a mighty army's van!
Fair Chattanooga's wooded slope
With summer airs is lightly stirred,
And many a heart is warm with hope
Where once the deep-mouthed gun was heard.
The blue Potomac stainless rolls,
And Mission Ridge is gemmed with fern;
On many a height sleep gallant souls,
And still the blooming years return.
Thank God! unseen to outward eye,
But felt in every freeman's breast,
From graves where fallen comrades lie
Ascends at Nature's wise behest,
With springing grass and blossoms new,
A prayer to bless the nation's life,
To freedom's flower give brighter hue,
And hide the awful stains of strife.
O, Boys in Blue, we turn to you,
The scarred and mangled who survive;
No more we meet in grand review,
But all the arts of freedom thrive.
Still glows the jewel in its shrine,
Won where the James now tranquil rolls;
Its wealth for all, the glory thine,
O memory of heroic souls!
* * * * *
The fallen cause still waits,--
Its bard has not come yet,
His song--through one of to-morrow's gates
Shall shine--but never set.
But when he comes--he'll sweep
A harp with tears all stringed,
And the very notes he strikes will weep,
As they come, from his hand, woe-winged.
Ah! grand shall be his strain,
And his songs shall fill all climes,
And the Rebels shall rise and march again
Down the lines of his glorious rhymes.
And through his verse shall gleam
The swords that flashed in vain,
And the men who wore the gray shall seem
To be marshalling again.
But hush! between his words
Peer faces sad and pale,
And you hear the sound of broken chords
Beat through the poet's wail.
Through his verse the orphans cry--
The terrible undertone!
And the father's curse and the mother's sigh,
And the desolate young wife's moan.
* * * * *
I sing, with a voice too low
To be heard beyond to-day,
In minor keys of my people's woe;
And my songs pass away.
To-morrow hears them not--
To-morrow belongs to fame:
My songs--like the birds'--will be forgot,
And forgotten shall be my name.
And yet who knows! betimes
The grandest songs depart,
While the gentle, humble, and low-toned rhymes
Will echo from heart to heart.
* * * * *
When falls the soldier brave
Dead--at the feet of wrong,--
The poet sings, and guards his grave
With sentinels of song.
Songs, march! he gives command,
Keep faithful watch and true;
The living and dead of the Conquered Land
Have now no guards save you.
Grave Ballads! mark ye well!
Thrice holy is your trust!
Go! halt! by the fields where warriors fell,
Rest arms! and guard their dust.
List, Songs! your watch is long!
The soldiers' guard was brief,
Whilst right is right, and wrong is wrong,
Ye may not seek relief.
Go! wearing the gray of grief!
Go! watch o'er the Dead in Gray!
Go guard the private and guard the chief,
And sentinel their clay!
And the songs, in stately rhyme,
And with softly sounding tread,
Go forth, to watch for a time--a time,
Where sleep the Deathless Dead.
And the songs, like funeral dirge,
In music soft and low,
Sing round the graves,--whilst not tears surge
From hearts that are homes of woe.
What though no sculptured shaft
Immortalize each brave?
What though no monument epitaphed
Be built above each grave?
When marble wears away,
And monuments are dust,--
The songs that guard our soldiers' clay
Will still fulfil their trust.
With lifted head, and steady tread,
Like stars that guard the skies,
Go watch each bed, where rest the dead,
Brave Songs! with sleepless eyes.
* * * * *
[Sung on the occasion of decorating the graves of the Confederate
dead, at Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S.C.]
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,--
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause!
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause,
In seeds of laurel in the earth
The blossom of your fame is blown,
And somewhere, waiting for its birth,
The shaft is in the stone!
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Which keep in trust your storied tombs,
Behold! your sisters bring their tears,
And these memorial blooms.
Small tributes! but your shades will smile
More proudly on these wreaths to-day,
Then when some cannon-moulded pile
Shall overlook this bay.
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!
There is no holier spot of ground
Than where defeated valor lies,
By mourning beauty crowned!
* * * * *
[The women of Columbus, Mississippi, strewed flowers alike on the
graves of the Confederate and the National soldiers.]
By the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;--
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;--
Under the one, the Blue;
Under the other, the Gray.
These in the robing of glory,
Those in the gloom of defeat,
All with the battle-blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet;--
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;--
Under the laurel, the Blue;
Under the willow, the Gray.
From the silence of sorrowful hours
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers
Alike for the friend and the foe,--
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;--
Under the roses, the Blue;
Under the lilies, the Gray.
So with an equal splendor
The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch, impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all;--
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;--
'Broidered with gold, the Blue;
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.
So when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain;--
Under the sod and the dew.
Waiting the judgment-day;--
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.
Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won;--
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;--
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.
No more shall the war-cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever
When they laurel the graves of our dead!
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment-day;--
Love and tears for the Blue,
Tears and love for the Gray.
* * * * *
Our fathers' God! from out whose hand
The centuries fall like grains of sand,
We meet to-day, united, free,
And loyal to our land and Thee,
To thank Thee for the era done,
And trust Thee for the opening one.
Here, where of old, by Thy design,
The fathers spake that word of Thine
Whose echo is the glad refrain
Of rended bolt and falling chain,
To grace our festal time, from all
The zones of earth our guests we call.
Be with us while the New World greets
The Old World thronging all its streets,
Unveiling all the triumphs won
By art or toil beneath the sun;
And unto common good ordain
This rivalship of hand and brain.
Thou, who hast here in concord furled
The war flags of a gathered world,
Beneath our Western skies fulfil
The Orient's mission of good-will,
And, freighted with love's Golden Fleece,
Send back its Argonauts of peace.
For art and labor met in truce,
For beauty made the bride of use,
We thank Thee; but, withal, we crave
The austere virtues strong to save,
The honor proof to place or gold,
The manhood never bought nor sold!


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03/02/2016 05:34 PMPosted by NinqjinqIs this something already implemented that we will be able to get a feel for in lvl 110 dungeons or raid testing without lvl 110 being open yet in Alpha?
03/02/2016 05:38 PMPosted by AriellèHas the way Armor increases with item level changed?
03/02/2016 05:51 PMPosted by FierydemiseHow will this be implemented for trinkets with scaling procs? Will this be implemented as a change to the prop point table above level 110 dungeon blues ilvl or something else?
03/02/2016 05:43 PMPosted by FrostedmagesHow exactly is the ilvl relationship with secondaries changing post ilvl 800? Feel free to post actual math.
03/02/2016 08:17 PMPosted by ZolvoltWith this change, will the ilevel difference before secondary stats don't matter be significantly smaller compared to live, or will it only be maybe one or two less than currently? (I know this is really general since is different for different specs)
03/03/2016 01:38 AMPosted by TwistedmindThe point I'm getting at is that if primary stats have no diminishing returns like secondaries, the ratio of primary to secondary will mean that THE BEST piece of gear at the end of the game will always simply be the highest ilevel.
Because your primary stat is just so much stronger than the secondary stat values.
03/03/2016 09:15 AMPosted by Sixthumbshttp://i.imgur.com/2LdyD3L.jpg
03/05/2016 05:58 AMPosted by SixthumbsThe thing I realized then is, that a single-stat item has as much stats as an evenly distributed item on the same ilvl, and even more than an unevenly distributed item.
03/31/2016 10:56 AMPosted by SixthumbsOk, whats wrong with secondary budgeting on the current builds?
I've got items with 2k secondaries and others with 800 secondaries. Same itemlevel, same slot.

subset: commoncrawl


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Home > Film
Kim Go-eun not offered role in 'Cheese in the Trap' movie
Actress Kim Go-eun was never offered a role in the movie version of "Cheese in the Trap," according to her agency Jangin Entertainment.
In an interview with local media outlets, her agency confirmed that Kim had no plans to star in the movie "Cheese in the Trap," as she was not offered a role.
"Kim was part of the TV drama cast as the lead female character, Hong Sul. However, we have never received any news or proposals over its movie version," they said.
|(Still from 'Cheese in the Trap')
The webtoon-based drama "Cheese in the Trap" was a huge hit in both Korea and China when it aired earlier this year, but it faced controversies due to problems between the cast and production team, as well as the webtoon's writer.
The movie version of "Cheese in the Trap" has already begun casting, with actor Park Hae-jin promising to join under the condition the original author participates in the production.
The film is to be led by star movie producer Lee Dong-ho, the director of "Inside Men" (2015) and "Architecture 101" (2012).
By Kim Ji-young (firstname.lastname@example.com)


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27 Nov 11 - 09:15 AM (#3264198)
Subject: Folklore: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: GUEST,Bluesman James
Greetings to all and a beleated Happy Thanksgiving:
Does anyone have any current information about Barbara Dane? I understand she has a facebook page but it shows little or no activity. She must be in her 80's by now.
For those who are not aware Barbara Dane has a prolific career doing everything from traditional Jazz and Classic Blues from the 50's with the likes of Louis Armstrong and Gene Kurpa to doing stone Blues with Sam Ligthn's Hopkins to singer/songwriter/socal activism.
She is the author/compiler of "The Vietnam Songbook" Now a collector's item.
I recommend going to youtube and doing a search.You will find some remarkable material with the
Firehouse Five- to Pete Seeger to the Chambers Brothers remarkable resume for one person.
She was married to singer/guitarist/Flamenco/MartialArts Expert- Rolf Cahn (a great under rated talent- another thread)
I understand she is living in or around Oakland CA.
Does anyone have current information?
27 Nov 11 - 10:22 AM (#3264235)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: pdq
She has her own website...
Barbara Dane
27 Nov 11 - 11:11 AM (#3264259)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: GUEST
Thank you . The last avtiviy listed was 2008. She is in her 80's now and must be limiting her activities with age!
27 Nov 11 - 11:38 AM (#3264274)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: babypix
Barbara is alive and well and living in the East Bay (of San Francisco, CA) area. She is still singing beautifully, and with the conviction and verve she always has. She's moving around a little slower now, but with the help of the internet, still informed, active, and feisty. I'm sure she'd like to hear from you. Follow the link on her website to get her e-mail address. Probably better than Facebook. I don't know how often she logs on.
Deborah Robins-Hanks
27 Nov 11 - 11:54 AM (#3264282)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: GUEST
Thank You! I sent her a "friend request"on Facebook and never got a response.
27 Nov 11 - 12:43 PM (#3264299)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: pdq
We all owe Barbara Dane a debt of gratitude for organizing protests against the Marincello abomination. She gathered together most of the Dixieland revival artists (such as Lu Watters) she had sung with in the 1950s and gave concerts that really drew attention to this project...
Marincello, Marin County
Marincello, the city that never was. In the 1950s the U.S. government gave up tens of thousands of acres of the Marin headlands, north of the Golden Gate Bridge. The military had owned it since 1851 but land was no longer needed for defending the bay. Enter Thomas Frouge, a developer from Pittsburgh. In 1964 Frouge, along with money from Gulf Oil, proposed building a town called Marincello. The 2,000 acre development would house 30,000 people and called for 50 apartment towers, vast tracts of single-family homes, and a "landmark hotel" along the headlands pristine shoreline and hills.
The project was approved by the County Board of Supervisors and construction began. But local conservationists continued to fight the development and in 1970 an appellate court ruled the developers hadn't followed the law and the construction halted.
Eventually a government study proposed the area become a national park. Frouge and Gulf Oil saw the writing on the wall and sold the land to The Nature Conservancy which passed it on to the National Park Service.
Today the Golden Gate National Recreation Area with its 75,398 acres and 28 miles of coastline remains undeveloped and attracts 16 million visitors a year, making it one of the country's most popular National Parks in America.
27 Nov 11 - 09:29 PM (#3264474)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: GUEST,Gerry
So far as I know, there's only one CD of Barbara Dane folk material available, but it's a superb collection. Rykodisc TCD 1062, Anthology of American Folk Songs. There is a discography at http://www.wirz.de/music/danefrm.htm
The Wikipedia article on Irwin Silber says, "Silber and blues/folk singer/fellow activist Barbara Dane became a couple in 1964." The Wikipedia article on Barbara Dane does not mention Irwin Silber. Not that it's any of my business, but what's up with that?
27 Nov 11 - 10:28 PM (#3264502)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: Mary Katherine
I saw her and heard her sing at Chris Strachwitz's 80th birthday party in El Cerrito this past July. She sounded wonderful and seemed in good health.
Barbara Dane and Irwin Silber were married for many decades. She cared for him devotedly until his death from Alzheimers.
27 Nov 11 - 10:42 PM (#3264508)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: pdq
The "Anthology of American Folk Songs" mentioned above has been issued yet again, this time under its original title "When I Was a Young Girl"
It has the same track list but is supposed to be re-mastered. Probably better sound quality, but I would have no way of knowing that without having both here at the same time to listen to.
Here is what Amazon sez:
# Audio CD (October 19, 2009) {another site sez it was 2011, just about one month ago}
# Number of Discs: 1
# Label: Essential Media Group
27 Nov 11 - 10:52 PM (#3264514)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: MAG
Somewhere I still have "I hate the capitalist system" LP -- the title song, which I have heard disparaged here and there -- tho' it has a proud history
(I also found her musical efforts way better than Irwin's -- kind of a one-noter about political purity)
28 Nov 11 - 03:54 AM (#3264581)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: Joe Offer
This article from Feb 2011 says she's alive and active - and she was doing a concert in Berkeley that month. I haven't encountered her, but I keep hearing mention of her name in Northern California folk circles.
Babypix and Mary Katherine are reliable witnesses to her being alive and kickin'.
23 Oct 13 - 06:26 AM (#3569177)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts the Barbara Dane
From: GUEST,Barbara Dane
Anybody still interested in my whereabouts? Just noticed this thread after all these years.. Kinda slow about picking up on internet stuff, to say the least! So here's a re-cap of things:
I am now 86 1/2 years old, sang my last full concert for my 85th birthday at the Freight and Salvage Coffeehouse in Berkeley. Now I sing smaller house concerts whenever possible, but this last year have been incapacitated by arthritis in the back, bronchitis and/or some sort of COPD in the lungs, etcetera. My husband Irwin Silber's long slow death from Alzheimer's took quite a toll on my own health, but he was my heart and he needed me.
(By the way, just for the record, it is a complete fiction that Irwin had a problem with Dylan "going electric"... it was that he was afraid he was drifting away from his base, the people who understood his poetry best and needed him to produce more of it. Irwin regretted the somewhat patronizing tone he took in that open letter, but never had a chance to discuss it with Bob. After that letter, watching Dylan's development, Irwin felt more and more appreciation for the power of his songwriting and how much it meant to at least two generations of folks, with many more to come.)
Last year I made a recording of "Good Morning Blues" with my grandson Osamu Menendez, who created a great blues backup band out of his Cuban rock band for the occasion. It is now getting lots of play on Cuban radio.
My son Pablo Menendez, guitarist and bandleader of Mezcla, will be here from Cuba in January when we plan to record some of those great old "American Songbook" tunes from the '30s and '40s with a small hot jazz combo.
My son Jesse (a/k/a/ Nicky) Cahn is in Oklahoma City where he writes meaningful songs, sings his heart out with his touchingly beautiful voice, teaches guitar and runs an important weekly Open Mike.
My daughter singer/producer Nina Menendez just successfully wrapped up her 8th Annual Festival Flamenco Gitano featuring some of the greatest figures in genuine Gypsy flamenco.
My great-grandson Mauro Menendez is already 20 years old and invites you to check out the kind of prize-winning beats he creates at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00932NREM/?tag=you09f-20
We've come a long way from my days in the '40s singing in front of shop gates in Detroit, but here we all are, making music each in our own way and all deeply grateful for being able to work at what we love. We all agree that music is not a toy but a necessity that helps heal, unite, and glorify the human race.
With heartfelt wishes for you all to have a peaceful and happy holiday season, with plenty of great music to share, Barbara Dane
Please reply to: email@example.com with subject line "Mudcat family"
11 Feb 17 - 09:52 PM (#3838374)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts of Barbara Dane?
From: Thomas Stern
a lovely new recording by Barbara Dane (at age 88) with
tasty small jazz ensemble accompaniment:
DREADNAUGHT DN1701 Throw It Away... CD 2016
Barbara Dane, vocals
Tammy Hall, piano
Ruth Davies, bass
Bill Maginnis, drums
Pablo Menendez, blues harp (5,7,9)
Richard Hadlock, soprano sax (8)
-1 I'm Sellin My Porkchops
-2 Slow
-3 Throw It Away
-4 American Tune
-5 Blues over Bodega
-6 The Kugelsburg Bank
-7 King Salmon Blues
-8 All Too Soon
-9 Tell Me How Long Blues
10 How Can You Face Me?
11 In My Life
12 What Kind of Country
13 My Brain
11 Feb 17 - 10:00 PM (#3838376)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts of Barbara Dane?
From: Thomas Stern
forgot to include these links:
Throw It Away release - youtube
Throw It Away - CDBaby
Cheers, Thomas.
11 Feb 17 - 10:09 PM (#3838378)
Subject: RE: Whereabouts of Barbara Dane?
From: Joe Offer
Thanks for refreshing this thread, Thomas. I had missed Barbara's post from 2013.
Here's Barbara Dane singing "Throw It Away" in 2014:


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Create an Account - Increase your productivity, customize your experience, and engage in information you care about.
Jefferson County Public Health is Celebrating the 25th Annual National Public Health Week Beginning April 6th
Jefferson County Public Health (JCPH) is celebrating National Public Health Week April 6-12, 2020. This year the National Public Health Week theme is: Looking Back, Moving Forward. This 25th anniversary is an opportunity to highlight some of the greatest public health successes and to celebrate what makes public health so vital. It's also a time to reflect on important lessons learned and also missed chances to improve health for all.
Each year for National Public Health Week, JCPH and the Jefferson Co. Board of Health honor people and organizations who make a significant contribution to maintaining and improving health in Jefferson County. JCPH asks you to join the Board of Health in nominating local Public Health Heroes who make our community safer and healthier. We want to hear your story. Nominations are open to the public through March 31, 2020. Please submit a nomination for an individual, agency/business, or group you feel is making a difference in the health of Jefferson County.
JCPH began recognizing Public Health Heroes as a way to celebrate National Public Health Week locally by honoring people who live or work in Jefferson County, and who promote public health in their daily lives. The focus of Public Health is improving an entire community's health through achieving healthier lifestyles and preventing health problems before they arise. Committed to helping communities become healthy places to live, work and play, Public Health, among other things, provides reliable information that people can use to make healthy choices, protects residents from hazards in the environment, and monitors and controls the spread of communicable diseases through disease investigations and containment tools.
What is a Public Health Hero? A public Health Hero is a person or an organization that promotes public health in daily life. Each day of Public Health Week is a different public health focus and nominations can relate to any of the public health focus areas, but are open to others as well. Following are the public health focus areas for Public Health Week 2020:
How to make a nomination:
How do I return the completed nomination form?
The deadline for submitting nominations is Tuesday, March 31th. Winners will be announced at the April 16, 2020 Jefferson County Board of Health Meeting, held at 615 Sheridan Street, PT from 2:30 – 4:30.
Learn more about National Public Health Week and "Looking Back, Moving Forward" at www.nphw.org.
For further information, contact Jenny Matter at (360) 385-9400 or email@example.com.


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We can help you extract the many hidden pockets of value scattered throughout both you and your suppliers value chains by expert's manufacturing experience
We manage the quality from start to end. Not only inspecting the finished goods but also managing the process of production from beginning.
"JUST IN TIME" is difficult to achieve it. you work with SRC, you can find the way your products showing to your customers.
The world is flat and connected. You and your suppliers should pay the fair cost to their products. SRC is excellent expert on costing.


text:
UK regulator threatens RT with sanctions for biased reporting
LONDON — Britain's broadcasting regulator has issued a stern warning to RT because of biased reporting in four of its news bulletins during the Ukraine crisis earlier this year.
Ofcom warned (PDF) the Russian state-backed channel that it would consider imposing a statutory sanction or other regulatory action if there were any future breaches of the due impartiality rules contained in Ofcom's Broadcasting Code.
RT is the Russian government-funded, English language television channel. Formerly called Russia Today, the company rebranded as RT in 2009.
Ofcom says RT's licensee, TV Novosti, did not adequately reflect the viewpoint of the interim Ukrainian government when making certain criticisms and allegations in four bulletins, broadcast on March 1, 3, 5 and 6.
"Across the four news bulletins broadcast between 1 March 2014 and 6 March 2014, Ofcom noted there was one brief example that could be reasonably characterised as the view of the interim Ukrainian Government being reflected to some degree and with due weight," the report reads.
"We did not however consider this was sufficient to balance the many other viewpoints within these news bulletins criticising (some seriously so), or in opposition to, the interim Ukrainian Government and its policies and actions."
In the UK, news — no matter what form it takes — must be presented to the audience with due impartiality, meaning that it must not favour one side over another and include the views, arguments and opinions of all sides. Due impartiality, however, does not mean equal time.
"In particular, when reporting on matters of major political or industrial controversy and major matters relating to current public policy in news programmes, broadcasters must ensure that they reflect an appropriately wide range of significant views and give those views due weight," the Ofcom report adds.
Defending itself to the regulator, TV Novosti said its aims were similar to Channel 4, claiming it is "challenging established views so as to support and stimulate well informed debate" and "promoting alternative views and new perspectives.
Ofcom responded: "We welcome the desire by some licensees to provide a distinct range of content that articulates alternative viewpoints. In particular we acknowledged and took into account in this case that the Licensee wishes to challenge 'established views.' TV Novosti, like Channel 4, however must comply with the Code. In our view neither is constrained disproportionately from challenging established views or orthodoxies through the obligation to comply with the due impartiality requirements of the Code."
This isn't the first time RT has been in trouble with Ofcom. The station has breached the code on other occasions.
In 2012, its coverage of Syria and Libya was examined and found to be in breach of rule 5.1, which covers impartiality.
Last month, the news channel launched RT UK news bulletins on weekday nights with host Bill Dod. The percentage of people in the UK who use RT for news dropped from 2% in 2013 to 1% in 2014, according to an Ofcom report on news consumption in the UK over the summer. CNN's share remained at 2%, while Al Jazeera increased from 3% to 4%.
In March, a U.S. news anchor quit live on air over what she described as the station's "whitewash" of coverage related to Russia and its president, Vladimir Putin.


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Eliqua Chelsee Goldee Phelps (born Melanie Vulner) is a British sim from Appaloosa Plains, the town shipped with The Sims 3: Pets.
Eliqua is a stylist.
Eliqua lives alone in her flat.
Biography[edit | edit source]
Birth & Education[edit | edit source]
Melanie Vulner was born to Darren and Penny Vulner in 1990. Eliqua was a bubbly and talkative child, she did very well at school, however did not make up for her intellectual skill in logic.
Kidnapping[edit | edit source]
Melanie was kidnapped from her school by a family friend, who told her her family had died in a car crash. Melanie believed this and moved in with the family friend. The family friend needed to remove all connections she had to the Vulner's, and renamed Melanie "Eliqua Phelps."
Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.


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I've mentioned previously on this site, we seem to be in the middle of
a late eighties/early nineties thrash revival in the underground.
Delirious is part of that revival of the German/Austrian thrash vein.
German quintet holds all the good cards on their hands if we really see
a major breakthrough of the sound of the golden age of thrash again.
They have the technical skills, a voice that is more than decent and
varied and a very decent selection of songs.
"Made for the Violent Age" Delirious manages to combine the sounds
of the olden days with modern sounds of e.g. In Flames or Hatesphere.
There is no doubt, however, that the Germano thrash of Kreator,
Destruction and Rage (there are obvious Rage inspired bits in the tune
"Call Me God") sets the agenda.
that said, the cards most be played well by Delirious if they want to go
all the way. Not all songs on the album hit the bull's-eye. E.g.
"Blood Begins to Freeze" sounds like a filler rather than a serious
effort, as does the semi-acoustic "My Friends".
As a little curiosity, Delirious have included a decent cover of Iron Butterfly's "In A Gadda Da Vida". Nice one.


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Scott Michael Brazil
Murrfreesboro, TN — Scott Michael Brazil, 33, of Murfreesboro, Tennessee, passed away on August 5, 2017.
Scott was born in Wichita Falls on October 30, 1983, to the late Dr. Max David Brazil and Janice Rosson Brazil. He attended Rider High School and was a member of the 2000 state championship soccer team. He went on to Oklahoma State University, which he attended until his struggles with mental illness became too severe.
Possessed of a quick wit and a wicked sense of humor, Scott loved soccer, his dogs, and the spiritual classics of Asian religions, especially the Bhagavad Gita. Although often hard on himself, Scott treated others with great generosity. Likewise, even as he struggled with schizoaffective disorder, a stream of kindness ran through his character, gently and deeply.
Scott was preceded in death by his father, Dr. Max David Brazil; by his grandfathers, Estel Ernest "Buck" Brazil and Aaron Kenneth Rosson; and by his grandmother, Patsy Rosson. He is survived by his mother, Janice Rosson Brazil; by his grandmother, Lorena Brazil; by his brothers Kyle and Ben (Laura, sons David, Walt, and John); and by his aunts and uncles: Clark and Micky Brazil, Jim and Carol Griffin, Tim and Lea DeLong, and Tom and Janie Bass. Scott is also survived by numerous cousins.
A memorial service will be held at 4:00 p.m. on Sunday, August 13, 2017, at Lunn's Colonial Funeral Home. The family will receive friends at a visitation following the service.
In lieu of flowers, memorial gifts may be made to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) at https://ifundraise.nami.org/campaign/ScottBrazil or to NAMI of Rutherford County, Tenn. at PO Box 11161, Murfreesboro, Tenn., 37129.
Condolences may be sent to the family at www.lunnscolonial.com.


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If you're the type of person who loves falling asleep to music, you might be interested to learn that after years, Spotify for Android has finally been updated where it now comes with a built-in sleep timer. This feature is pretty straightforward as its name suggests, where Android users can now set a sleep timer which will stop the music playback once the timer is up.
As we said, this feature seems to have been a long time coming. This is because the iOS version of Spotify already has the feature, so it is unclear why it took Spotify this long to introduce it to Android. Previously, Android users had to turn to third-party apps in order to achieve a similar effect, but naturally having a native built-in function is always much preferred, especially since it will work right out of the door.
The feature is accessible from the overflow menu and users can choose to stop music playback after the current song ends, or after 5 minutes, or up to an hour. This will be useful if you like falling asleep to music but don't want to keep the music playback going when you're already sleeping or if you'd rather not disturb others if you're using it with a speaker. The updated Spotify should already be available for download so head on over to the Play Store to get your hands on the latest version of the app.
Filed in Android, Apps, Entertainment, Music and Spotify. Source: androidpolice. Read more about


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Why not take a look around our website and see what we have to offer? Don't forget that we offer payment plans for up to 12 months with no interest or fees. It's 100% free. It makes purchasing for your collection a lot easier.
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Customer service is here & ready to take your call.
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Copper Culture Indians inhibited Isle Royale and the Keweenaw Peninsula. From the Indian Ridge Museum, Elyria Ohio, ex. Col. Raymond Vietzen collection. Each beaten from raw ore into a sheet and rolled into a tube. About 1".


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Unifi Provides Preliminary Second Quarter Business Update and Announces Second Quarter Fiscal 2019 Earnings Conference Call
External pressures and underperformance combine to drive short-term profitability decline, while an improving price to cost relationship is expected for the third and fourth quarters of fiscal 2019
Jan 14, 2019, 06:30 ET
GREENSBORO, N.C., Jan. 14, 2019 /PRNewswire/ -- Unifi, Inc. (NYSE: UFI), one of the world's leading innovators in synthetic and recycled yarns, today announced preliminary financial results for its second fiscal quarter ended December 30, 2018.
For the second quarter of fiscal 2019, the Company expects:
- Net sales of approximately $167 million;
- Gross margins of approximately 8.4%;
- Operating loss between ($1.5) million and ($0.5) million;
- Loss before income taxes between ($1.5) million and ($0.5) million; and
- Adjusted EBITDA between $4.5 million and $5.5 million.
"While we remain committed to delivering our revenue growth targets, and are confident in our Partner, Innovate and Build Strategy, our fiscal second quarter profitability was considerably lower than we anticipated," said Kevin Hall, CEO of Unifi. "Polyester raw material costs spiked in September to reach a multi-year high in October, resulting in short-term demand disruption. While those costs have declined since, gross margins were pressured throughout the second quarter as we worked through the higher-cost inventory. These headwinds were compounded by lower production volumes and a weaker sales mix."
Mr. Hall concluded, "Despite these headwinds, we saw continued growth in certain international operations against foreign economic and currency pressure. As we look forward, we continue to forecast solid revenue growth in the second-half of fiscal 2019, and we expect to drive stronger operating income and Adjusted EBITDA given the recent decline in raw material costs, the seasonal demand that historically occurs in our third and fourth quarters, and the continued traction of our PVA portfolio. This second-half outlook includes gross margins near more seasonal norms in the third and fourth quarters. Therefore, we are reiterating our top-line guidance for the year and have adjusted our outlook for fiscal 2019 operating income and Adjusted EBITDA."
For fiscal 2019, the Company is updating its outlook as follows:
Current Fiscal 2019 Outlook
Previous Fiscal 2019 Outlook
Mid-single-digit percentage growth for net sales
Mid-single-digit percentage growth for net sales
Operating income between $19.0 million and $23.0 million
Adjusted EBITDA between $42.0 million and $46.0 million
Mid-single-digit percentage growth for operating income
Capital expenditures of approximately $25.0 million
Capital expenditures of approximately $25.0 million
Effective tax rate in the mid-40% range
Effective tax rate in the mid-40% range
The preliminary, unaudited information contained herein remains subject to confirmation and finalization based on the Company's quarter-end closing procedures, including its execution of its internal controls over financial reporting and the subsequent occurrence or identification of events prior to the formal issuance of the quarterly financial statements.
Unifi Announces Second Quarter Fiscal 2019 Earnings Conference Call
Unifi, Inc. (NYSE: UFI) will host a conference call at 8:30 a.m., Eastern Time, on Wednesday, January 30, 2019, to discuss its second quarter fiscal 2019 financial results.
The second quarter fiscal 2019 financial results and supporting materials will be available beginning the morning of the call on the Company's website at http://investor.unifi.com. The conference call can be accessed approximately 10 minutes prior to the beginning of the call by dialing (877) 359-9508 (Domestic) or (224) 357-2393 (International) and, when prompted, providing conference ID number 1466964.
There will also be a live audio webcast of the call, which can be accessed on the Company's website at http://investor.unifi.com.
A replay of the conference call will be available approximately two hours following the call through February 6, 2019 and can be accessed via the Company's website at http://investor.unifi.com. In addition, presentation slides will be available on the Company's website for 12 months following the call.
About Unifi:
Unifi, Inc. (NYSE: UFI) is a global textile solutions provider and one of the world's leading innovators in manufacturing synthetic and recycled performance fibers. The Company's proprietary PROFIBER™ technologies offer increased performance, comfort and style advantages, enabling customers to develop products that perform, look and feel better. Through REPREVE®, one of Unifi's proprietary technologies and the global leader in branded recycled performance fibers, Unifi has transformed more than 13 billion plastic bottles into recycled fiber for new apparel, footwear, home goods and other consumer products. Unifi continually innovates technologies to meet consumer needs in moisture management, thermal regulation, antimicrobial, UV protection, stretch, water resistance and enhanced softness. Unifi collaborates with many of the world's most influential brands in the sports apparel, fashion, home, automotive and other industries. For more information about Unifi, visit www.Unifi.com.
Cautionary Statement on Forward-Looking Statements
Certain statements included herein contain forward-looking statements within the meaning of federal securities laws about the financial condition and results of operations of Unifi that are based on management's beliefs, assumptions and expectations about our future economic performance, considering the information currently available to management. An example of such forward-looking statements include, among others, guidance pertaining to our financial outlook. The words "believe," "may," "could," "will," "should," "would," "anticipate," "plan," "estimate," "project," "expect," "intend," "seek," "strive" and words of similar import, or the negative of such words, identify or signal the presence of forward-looking statements. These statements are not statements of historical fact, and they involve risks and uncertainties that may cause our actual results, performance or financial condition to differ materially from the expectations of future results, performance or financial condition that we express or imply in any forward-looking statement.
Factors that could contribute to such differences include, but are not limited to: the competitive nature of the textile industry and the impact of global competition; changes in the trade regulatory environment and governmental policies and legislation; the availability, sourcing and pricing of raw materials; general domestic and international economic and industry conditions in markets where Unifi competes, including economic and political factors over which Unifi has no control; changes in consumer spending, customer preferences, fashion trends and end uses for products; the financial condition of Unifi's customers; the loss of a significant customer or brand partner; natural disasters, industrial accidents, power or water shortages, extreme weather conditions and other disruptions at one of our facilities; the success of Unifi's strategic business initiatives; the volatility of financial and credit markets; the ability to service indebtedness and fund capital expenditures and strategic business initiatives; the availability of and access to credit on reasonable terms; changes in foreign currency exchange, interest and inflation rates; fluctuations in production costs; the ability to protect intellectual property; the strength and reputation of our brands; employee relations; the ability to attract, retain and motivate key employees; the impact of environmental, health and safety regulations; the impact of tax laws, the judicial or administrative interpretations of tax laws and/or changes in such laws or interpretations; the operating performance of joint ventures and other equity method investments; and the accurate financial reporting of information from equity method investees.
All such factors are difficult to predict, contain uncertainties that may materially affect actual results and may be beyond our control. New factors emerge from time to time, and it is not possible for management to predict all such factors or to assess the impact of each such factor on Unifi. Any forward-looking statement speaks only as of the date on which such statement is made, and we do not undertake any obligation to update any forward-looking statement to reflect events or circumstances after the date on which such statement is made, except as may be required by federal securities laws. The above and other risks and uncertainties are described in Unifi's most recent annual report on Form 10-K, and additional risks or uncertainties may be described from time to time in other reports filed by Unifi with the Securities and Exchange Commission pursuant to the Securities Exchange Act of 1934, as amended.
SOURCE Unifi, Inc.


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The 2010 Yamaha Zuma 125 is a combination of fun and practicality for those motorcycle enthusiasts. With its unique design, you'll surely be a head-turner once you fire on the engine and conquer the road. With its exposed steel-tube frame and big classic headlights, Zuma has broken the bounds of common styling cues among others. This headlight system features dual bulb with housings that is mounted on top of the apron for a greater visibility especially at night and gives you a sporty finish. Because it is small, Zuma can be parked easily with either a kickstand or a center-stand. It is lightweight with plastic body material and steel frame that can accommodate up to two persons. The fully automatic transmission and electric push-button button starter makes it more convenient for the driver to start the engine and go in an instant. And if you are worried once the battery dies, there is a backup kick-starter that will save your day.
Zuma is equipped with a 125cc forced air-cooled 4-stroke single cylinder engine that gives you powerful and smooth driving at all times. Its reed-valve induction will provide you with an excellent throttle response and power delivery just like those on the top-of-the-line. The fuel capacity is 1.5 gal which is enough for you to travel long distances in a full tank. Exclusive autolube oil injection system answers your problem over messy and hassle premixing of fuel and oil, and with its easy to read indicator light found on the instrument pane, you will always be alerted when oil level gets low. During winter or rainy season, the automatic choke makes cold starting a breeze.
Measuring a length of just 74.4 in, width of 27.8 in, and a height of 43.7, this compact model is all you ever wanted for a motorcycle. Seat height is 30.1 in, which is also perfect for short people. A ground clearance of 4.7 in ensures that the bottom portion of the body wont bump into small uneven roads or humps on the road. The wheels measure 50.2 in and have a 155mm break disc.
The over-all specification of Yamaha Zuma is ideal for motorcycle enthusiasts and even for office-working individuals. It is lightweight, stylistic, fuel friendly, and most of all, it is manufactured by the world-known Yamaha and comes with a 1 year limited factory warranty for your peace of mind.


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Foreign direct investment (FDI) equity inflows into India increased by 30% to $21.6 billion in the first half of FY2016-17. The services sector, which includes financial, banking, insurance and others, accounted for almost one-fourth of the FDI equity inflows during the period. The computer software and hardware sector received $1 billion in FDI, registering a 66% fall compared with the same period last year. In April-September 2016, Mumbai-registered companies received FDI worth $10.2 billion which is higher than what they received in the whole of FY2015-16.
Foreign investors channelled a higher share of their investments into India through Singapore compared with Mauritius in the financial year ended March 31, 2016, for the second time in the last three years. While the momentum was captured previously, latest official statistics show this continued well into the end of the year.
This is partly due to the big quantum of international investors' money flowing into Indian e-commerce and internet sector at large.
In the last financial year, FDI equity inflows from Singapore touched $13.6 billion. The money routed through Singapore was more than what came through Mauritius and the US put together last year.
Singapore enjoys a double taxation avoidance agreement (DTAA) like Mauritius. Mauritius has for long been the favourite route for investments in India for foreign portfolio investors, but had been facing flak from Indian taxmen over the loose ends in the treaty that led to leakage in tax due in India. Last month, India and Mauritius agreed to amend the three-decade old treaty in a bid to plug some of the loopholes.
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That happened last october but now it's effective, the company does mostly video codecs and DRM:
Mobiclip is now a subsidiary of Nintendo. Mobiclip is a Research and Development center specialized in the field of highly optimized software technologies. We are commited to provide the gaming industry with the latest innovations in middleware.


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Baby seal arrested for trespassing
New Zealand police have made Wellington streets safe once more after accosting a rogue sleepy infant seal. The small mammal had made itself a cosy but dangerous home underneath a parked car in a local carpark.
According to New Zealand publication Stuff, Senior Sergeant Dave Houston was notified by a passer by who had spotted the little fluff ball when it peeped its head out from under a parked car.
The owner of the car returned to find the peculiar scene — law enforcers prodding underneath his car with a broom.
After ascertaining that the seal did not in fact belong to the car owner, authorities managed to coax the seal out from under the car, though Houston reported that the young pup was "a little bit bitey."
BREAKING NEWS: Baby seal under arrest for trespassing while cute @DomPost https://t.co/WuuznGOMho (Pics @nzpolice) pic.twitter.com/IbVdFx517C
— Talia Shadwell (@TaliaShadwell) August 12, 2016
@pacodylan @DomPost @nzpolice HE JUST WANTS HIS MOTHER pic.twitter.com/LpmnWO4PtM
— Talia Shadwell (@TaliaShadwell) August 12, 2016
Wellington District Police reported via Facebook and Twitter that the little pup, adorably named Steve by its saviours, was taken into the care of the Department of Conservation and Wildside New Zealand who will ensure the safe return of the pup to his rightful, and less dangerous home.
The Department of Conservation staff told Wellington Police that the pup was around the age where their mothers allow them to go out on their own in the wild — all that exploring can be exhausting for a little furry adventurer.
The report states that the Department of Conservation bailed out the little water baby and planned to return and release him back into the wild.


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Global Surgical Tables Market: Overview
The report on the global surgical tables market presents a detailed assessment of the market and reliable forecasts regarding its likely growth trajectory in the coming years. The global surgical tables market is assessed on all fronts, including the hierarchy of its segmentation, the major factors influencing its growth, and the leading players staking a claim in it. The comprehensive view provided in the report is backed up by solid facts collated from reliable first- and second-hand sources and reliable market figures. The latest figures for the global surgical tables market are elaborated upon in detail in the report in order to provide readers a clear picture of the market's current standpoint. The analysis of the current figures is combined with insight derived from analysis of the global surgical tables market's historical trajectory to derive solid projections regarding the way the market is likely to progress in the coming years.
Surgical tables are a key need in the healthcare sector and have thus benefited significantly from the growing investment in the healthcare sector in developed as well as developing countries. The surgical tables market has also benefited from the steady technological development embraced by the healthcare sector, which has resulted in the development of consistent progressions in design, boosting the demand from the surgical tables market. The rising economic prominence of the healthcare sector in the coming years is likely to ensure stable growth of the global surgical tables market in the near future.
The global surgical tables market was valued at US$837.1 mn in 2017. Exhibiting a steady 3.9% CAGR in the 2017-2022 forecast period, the surgical tables market is expected to reach US$1,014.3 mn by 2022.
Global Surgical Tables Market: Dynamics
The report provides a clear look into the dynamics of how various influential factors affect the global surgical tables market. The most important factors affecting the market are provided with great attention, with its relationship with the surgical tables market analyzed carefully to derive useful insight. Factors hindering the global surgical tables market are also assessed in detail in the report, which becomes a key tool for players to know what pitfalls to avoid. In dynamic markets such as the surgical tables market, with rapid influx of investment resulting in an unstable landscape, small matters can make a difference.
The steady growth of the healthcare sector across the world is likely to remain the prime driver for the global surgical tables market. Healthcare industry players have started to pay attention to the growing need for advanced and innovative design in the medical devices industry, which has driven the development of innovative variants of various surgical implements, including the surgical tables market.
Global Surgical Tables Market: Segmentation
Non-powered surgical tables dominate the global surgical tables market in terms of product type. The non-powered surgical tables segment was valued at US$619.1 mn in 2017, representing 74% of the market. Growing at a CAGR of 4.3%, the segment is expected to grow to US$765.7 mn by 2022, accounting for 75.5% of the global surgical tables market.
Geographically, North America is the dominant contributor to the global surgical tables market due to the widespread adoption of advanced surgical equipment in developed countries such as the U.S. and Canada. The North America surgical tables market was valued at US$246.9 mn in 2017 and is expected to exhibit a steady 4.1% CAGR in rising to US$301.5 mn by 2022.
Global Surgical Tables Market: Competitive Dynamics
Leading players in the global surgical tables market are analyzed in the report in order to provide readers with a clear picture of the competitive dynamics of the global surgical tables market. Regulatory factors influencing the major competitive trends in the global surgical tables market are assessed in the report. Key companies examined in the report include AMTAI Medical Equipment, Inc., Allengers Medical Systems Limited, C-RAD AB, Getinge AB, Skytron Inc., STERIS, Elekta AB, Span America Medical System Inc., and Stryker Corporation.
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