Wild Animal Visit

Well, it did snow! Not a huge amount, but enough to get everyone nervous about driving. It is gorgeous to look at though, especially when you're inside a warm house, knowing you don't have to go out! LOL

A lovely buck - not a young one if I "read" his antlers right - came to have a nap on the front lawn and for some reason the cats just ignored him. Normally they would be hissing and spitting - after all, it's THEIR property. But they just stared at each other through the window, then everyone went back to sleep. The dachshunds upstairs were not so calm, but the deer just ignored their yapping.

Garry finished his drywalling yesterday, so now I can repack and reorganize my store room. I think it will be a weekend project as it's supposed to warm up some. Right now it's just a little too chilly in there.

This is by Samuel Johnson and just a note - "officious" at the time this poem was written meant "kind".

On the Death of Mr. Robert Levet, a Practiser in Physic

Condemned to Hope's elusive mine,
As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blasts and slow decline
Our social comforts drop away.

Well tried through many a varying year,
See Levet to the grave descend;
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend.

Yet still he fills affections eye,
Obscurely wise and coarsely kind;
Nor, lettered Arrogance, deny
They praise to merit unrefined.

When fainting nature called for aid,
And hovering death prepared the blow,
His vigorous remedy displayed
The power of art without the show.

In Misery's darkest cavern known,
His useful care was ever nigh,
Where hopeless Anguish poured his groan,
And lonely want retired to die.

No summons mocked by chill delay,
No petty gain disdained by pride;
The modest wants of every day
The toil of every day supplied.

His virtues walked their narrow round,
Nor made a pause, nor left a void;
And sure the Eternal Master found
The single talent well employed.

The busy day, the peaceful night,
Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;
His fame was firm--his powers were bright,
Though now his eightieth year was nigh.

Then with no fiery throbbing pain,
No cold gradations of decay,
Death broke at once the vital chain,
And freed his soul the nearest way.