The Lovers’ Almanac 11 January – Solo – verse by Bayard Taylor – art by Georgios Jakobides

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Almanac from Mac Tag dedicated to his muse.  Follow us on twitter @cowboycoleridge.  Do you tremble in solitude?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Almanac

Dear Muse,

readin’, writin’, waitin’
this vision, these voices
from the past, chasin’
light, this verse
this solitude
yearned for, for years
the longin’ once so fierce
fades in the rear view
a certain clarity
takin’ its place
and thus this…
should this vision
be shared

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved


Long before the dream they called him Solo

Alone became all there could be
He rides down the same trail daily
Weathered, hardened, beard mostly grey
Long blonde hair under a hat, black
As a fire-gutted citadel
Pale blue eyes fightin’ back the years
Tremblin’ in solitude

He comes and stands at dusk
His spot each time the same
He has to turn his words loose
Or they will grow too crowded to relieve
Carefully chosen, softly spoken
Words, flyin’ all round him then
They float on the breeze, ridin’ the wind
Into the shadows that wait for night

In his early years,
His prime yet not in sight
Before beauty’s force he knew
Or of false delight
Or to what burden
She did her captives hold

He wondered in his solitude
And first began to read, and write
And so to praise a true desire
Love smiled to see what a disguise
He turned those words of the tale of old
And, that he might more mysteries behold,
Was set so fair a woman to his eyes,
That with her, learned the ways of love

Learned what it was to be half of a whole
No longer captive in solitude
They took their happiness
Beyond ridiculous, taste be damned
Then Fate, or God, or Magic,
Have it as you will, intervened
And the book closed with, dead sighs
And he returned to solitude

After that, ridin’ all over the West
From Mexico to Alaska
Willin’ girls in saloons and cantinas
Gave shelter from the storms
Always searchin’ for, never findin’
What had once been held so dear
Kept movin’ on till one day
She spoke in a dream and he stopped

And so he reads and writes and waits
And rides down the same trail
Holdin’ back and chokin’ back
The long lost years and tears
And he stops where lost love lies
And reads his poems aloud,
Settin’ the words free on the wind,
And trembles in solitude

© copyright 2013 Mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge all rights reserved

The Song of the Day is Willie Nelson‘s version of  “Blues Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain” by Fred Rose.  We do not own the rights to this song.  No copyright infringement intended.

Bayard Taylor
Bayard Taylor.jpg

Today is the birthday of Bayard Taylor (Chester County, PennsylJanuary 11, 1825 – December 19, 1878 Berlin); American poet, literary critic, translator, travel author, and diplomat.


  • If she but smile, the crystal calm shall break
    In music, sweeter than it ever gave
    As when a breeze breathes o’er some sleeping lake,
    And laughs in every wave.

    • “The Return of the Goddess” (1850), later published as the Preface to The Poet’s Journal (1863); also in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 103.
  • Knowledge alone is the being of Nature,
    Giving a soul to her manifold features,
    Lighting through paths of the primitive darkness,
    The footsteps of Truth and the vision of Song.

    • Kilimandjaro (1852), Stanza 2; later published in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 73.
  • From the Desert I come to thee
    On a stallion shod with fire;
    And the winds are left behind
    In the speed of my desire.
    Under thy window I stand,
    And the midnight hears my cry:
    I love thee, I love but thee,
    With a love that shall not die
    Till the sun grows cold,
    And the stars are old,
    And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!

    • “Bedouin Song” (1853), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 69.
  • They sang of love, and not of fame;
    Forgot was Britain’s glory;
    Each heart recalled a different name,
    But all sang Annie Lawrie.

    • “The Song of the Camp” (1856), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 86.
  • Sleep, soldiers! still in honored rest
    Your truth and valor wearing:
    The bravest are the tenderest,—
    The loving are the daring.

    • “The Song of the Camp” (1856), in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 86.
  • Peace the offspring is of Power.
    • “A Thousand Years” (September 20, 1862), stanza 12; in The Poems (1866), p. 411.
  • The hollows are heavy and dank
    With the steam of the Goldenrods.

    • “The Guests of Night” (1871), st. 2, in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 314.
  • All, wherein I have part,
    All that was loss or gain, Slips from the clasping heart,
    Breaks from the grasping brain.Lo, what is left? I am bare
    As a new-born soul, — I am naught:
    My deeds are dust in air,
    My words are ghosts of thought.
    I ride through the night alone,
    Detached from the life that seemed,
    And the best I have felt or known
    Is less than the least I dreamed.

    • “The Guests of Night” (1871), st. 3 – 4, in The Poetical Works of Bayard Taylor (1907), p. 314.
  • Once let the Angel blow! —
    A peal from the parted heaven,
    The first of seven!
    For the time is come that was foretold
    So long ago!
    As the avalanche gathers, huge and cold,
    From the down of the harmless snow,
    The years and the ages gather and hang
    Till the day when the word is spoken:
    When they that dwell in the end of time
    Are smitten alike for the early crime,
    As the vials of wrath are broken!

    • “Gabriel” in The Century : A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.
  • Yes, let the Angel blow!
    A peal from the parted heaven,
    The first of seven!—
    The warning, not yet the sign, of woe!
    That men arise
    And look about them with wakened eyes,
    Behold on their garments the dust and slime,
    Refrain, forbear,
    Accept the weight of a nobler care
    And take reproach from the fallen time!

    • “Gabriel” in The Century : A Popular Quarterly, Volume 18 (1874), p. 617.

The Poet’s Journal (1863)

  • Thunder-spasms the waking be
    Into Life from Apathy:
    Life, not Death, is in the gale, —
    Let the coming Doom prevail!

    • First Evening, “A Symbol”.
  • No visitors shall yonder valley find.
    Except the spirits of the rain and wind:
    Here you must bide, my friends, with me entombed
    In this dim crypt, where shelved around us lie
    The mummied authors.

    • “Third Evening”.
Georgios Jakobides
Georgios Iakobidis.JPG

Georgios Jakobides

Today is the birthday of Georgios Jakobides (Lesbos, Ottoman Empire 11 January 1853 – 13 December 1932 Athens); painter and one of the main representatives of the Greek artistic movement of the Munich School. He founded and was the first curator of the National Gallery of Greece in Athens.


Jakobides in his studio, photographed by Carl Teufel, 1883


Mac Tag

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