In Ífè was great joy: the last
Black thundercloud has passed; the maids were wed,
And all men feasted on the sacred days
Of Ógun and the Lord of Day—when sudden,
From the still Forest o’er the walls there broke
Portents of moving trees and hurrying grass
On Ífè’s stone-still revellers. (Hope perishes
In the dark hour a mother sees the dance
Of white-robed goblins1 of the midnight streets—
A glimpse, no more; and her sick child is lost).

Despair held rule: the new-wed wives were lone;
Their men were slaves of Úbo lords. The drum
Was silent, and laughter mute. About dull tasks
A listless people wandered;

Myths of Ífè

Book 2, XI


His service doth consist in this, that a man keep himself pure from all violent passion and evil affection, from all rashness and vanity, and from all manner of discontent, either in regard of the gods or men. For indeed whatsoever proceeds from the gods, deserves respect for their worth and excellency; and whatsoever proceeds from men, as they are our kinsmen, should by us be entertained, with love, always; sometimes, as proceeding from their ignorance, of that which is truly good and bad, (a blindness no less, than that by which we are not able to discern between white and black:) with a kind of pity and compassion also.

Meditations by Marcus Aurelius

God give you joy, God give you grace
To shield the truth and smite the wrong,
To honour Virtue, Valour, Worth.
To cherish faith and foster song.

Sarojini Naidu

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January 18, 2017