A Tribute to Actonbell ...
Acton Bell was the pseudonym of Anne Brontë (January 17, 1820 – May 28, 1849) a British author and the youngest of the trio of Brontë sisters whose Victorian romantic novels of manners and society often had a sly side ... many digs were made at the society of which they were a part. Although they were deep into their own culture, they still saw a lot of what was wrong with it ... were frustrated by it ... and some of their writings could be seen as (gentle) protest.
Acton Bell is also the nom de plume of Hoppy Trails blogster Rahs Speedy Gonzalez Pez (please access her blog through the link at right.)
This post is a tribute -- we're drinking a pale ale in her honor -- to Rahs ... and the daily courage of the working woman. (Sometimes just getting up and getting there is the highest form of valor.)
As we drink our beers, let's read part of one of Anne Brontë's poems:
"Time steals thy moments, drinks thy breath,
Changes and wastes thy mortal frame;
But though he gives the clay to death,
He cannot touch the inward flame.
Nay, though he steals thy years away,
Their memory is left thee still,
And every month and every day
Leaves some effect of good or ill.
The wise will find in Memory's store
A help for that which lies before
To guide their course aright;
Then, hush thy plaints and calm thy fears;
Look back on these departed years,
And, say, what meets thy sight?"
"I see, far back, a helpless child,
Feeble and full of causeless fears,
Simple and easily beguiled
To credit all it hears.
That heart so prone to overflow
E'en at the thought of others' woe,
How will it bear its own?
How, if a sparrow's death can wring
Such bitter tear-floods from the eye,
Will it behold the suffering
Of struggling, lost humanity?"
"Look back again–What dost thou see?"
Here's to you, Actonbell.