Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Long Ago
    The Long Ago
    The Long Ago
    Ebook63 pages46 minutes

    The Long Ago

    By J. W. (Jacob William) Wright

    ()

    Read preview
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 26, 2013
    The Long Ago

    Related to The Long Ago

    Related ebooks

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Scarlet Ribbons

      Oct 20, 2022

      I was two when I came to love the tiny, red flowers that spilled over the worn doorstep of my first home and splattered the cracked pathway to the beck with vibrant colour. Like Hansel’s breadcrumbs, the scarlet pimpernel ribbon was my security on th

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Best Tonic There Is

      Oct 7, 2020

      The Best Tonic There Is
      4 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Jan 1, 2021

      I learned the world through the bottoms of my feet, barein the creeks of summer, stepping on pebbles, the squidgeof moss between my toes. On hot asphalt, the hop and skipover cracks, feet already toughened by bramble, dirt, the pricklyground of pine

      4 min read

    • Article

      A Tale Of Two Christmases

      Dec 17, 2020

      A Tale Of Two Christmases
      7 min read

    • Article

      Hello Darkness My Old Friend

      Jun 17, 2020

      Hello Darkness My Old Friend
      4 min read

    • Article

      It’s Come to This

      Sep 1, 2021

      It’s Come to This
      16 min read

    • Article

      Back To The Heartland

      Sep 1, 2023

      Back To The Heartland
      4 min read

    • Article

      No Good Thing Ever Dies

      Jan 28, 2021

      During the Christmas break, I decided it was time to sort through the organised chaos that I call my study. Despite its haphazard appearance, I pride myself on my ability to find things in an instant. However, hidden away in one corner draw I discove

      3 min read

    • Article

      Chimes

      Jul 7, 2020

      On the first day of fall, hazy wisps of soft, gray fog hung over the brook in front of our home, disguising the thick verdant undergrowth on the banks and appearing to be in an all-day holding pattern. I should have known better. As is often the case

      2 min read

    • Article

      Then And Now

      Jan 29, 2018

      WORDS LAURIAN BROWN I AM GOING BACK A VERY LONG WAY, TO THE MINE HOUSE IN SPRINGS WHERE I SPENT THE FIRST 10 YEARS OF MY LIFE It’s fascinating, the difference between houses then and now, and what was considered adequate, comfortable, perhaps even l

      3 min read

    • Article

      Artistic Influences

      Mar 3, 2022

      Artistic Influences
      8 min read

    • Article

      Wanderlust In The Park

      Jan 26, 2024

      Wanderlust In The Park
      4 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems by Joseph Brodsky

      May 12, 2020

      Two Poems by Joseph Brodsky
      7 min read

    • Article

      Two Crises, Two Gardens

      May 13, 2020

      Two Crises, Two Gardens
      2 min read

    • Article

      HINTERLAND & HAMLETS

      Jul 31, 2019

      HINTERLAND & HAMLETS
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Parrots of January

      Nov 25, 2023

      The Parrots of January
      3 min read

    • Article

      The Best Rain in Literature

      Apr 14, 2020

      The Best Rain in Literature
      11 min read

    • Article

      The Weekend!

      Feb 3, 2022

      The Weekend!
      6 min read

    • Article

      Commonplace Book

      Jun 1, 2022

      Try to praise the mutilated world. Remember June’s long days, and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine. The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles. —Adam Zagajewski, “Try to Praise the Mutilated World,” tr. by Clare C

      4 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Jan 1, 2022

      The painting is of a door, its wood so warpedwith moisture it cannot close. It stays ajar leaving a sliver of light—enough to suggestsomething sweet and almost unreachable behind the door—and you sit in yourroom working on the bills or those comforti

      4 min read

    • Article

      The Gardener’s Garden

      Apr 21, 2021

      The Gardener’s Garden
      2 min read

    • Article

      About Town Te Anau

      Apr 19, 2021

      About Town Te Anau
      4 min read

    • Article

      For The Love Of Trees

      Jan 5, 2020

      For The Love Of Trees
      18 min read

    • Article

      Chimes

      Mar 24, 2020

      There is a belief in Celtic folklore that if you linger in a place between two worlds, like at twilight where a meadow meets a wood, or at dawn between the shore and the sea, you may be visited by a fairy. Of course, you may never actually see a fair

      2 min read

    Reviews for The Long Ago

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Long Ago - J. W. (Jacob William) Wright

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Long Ago, by Jacob William Wright

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: The Long Ago

      Author: Jacob William Wright

      Posting Date: September 4, 2009 [EBook #4757]

      Release Date: December, 2003

      First Posted: March 12, 2002

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LONG AGO ***

      Produced by David A. Schwan. HTML version by Al Haines.

      The Long Ago

      by Jacob William Wright

      1 The Garden

      2 The River

      3 Christmas

      4 Butter, Eggs, Ducks, Geese

      5 The Sugar Barrels

      6 Jimmy, the Lamplighter

      7 Flies

      8 The Autumn Leaves

      9 Getting in the Wood

      10 The Rain

      11 Grandmother

      12 When Day is Done

      Then said he unto me,

      Go thy way,

      Weigh me the weight of the fire,

      Or measure me the blast of the wind,

      Or call me again the day that is past.

      II Esdras IV:5

      The day is done, and yet we linger here at the window of the private office, alone, in the early evening. Street sounds come surging up to us—the hoarse Voice of the City—a confused blur of noise—clanging trolley-cars, rumbling wagons, and familiar cries—all the varied commotion of the home-going hour when the city's buildings are pouring forth their human tide of laborers into the clogged arteries.

      We lean against the window-frame, looking across and beyond the myriad roofs, and listening. The world-weariness has touched our temples with gray, and the heaviness of the day's concerns and tumult presses in, presses in .... presses in ....

      Yet as we look into the gentle twilight, the throbbing street below slowly changes to a winding country road .... the tall buildings fade in the sunset glow until they become only huge elm-trees overtopping a dusty lane .... the trolley-bells are softened so that they are but the distant tinkle of the homeward herd on the hills .... and you and I in matchless freedom are once more trudging the Old Dear Road side by side, answering the call of the wondrous Voice of Boyhood sounding through the years.

      The Garden

      It was the spirit of the garden that crept into my boy-heart and left its fragrance, to endure through the years. What the garden stood for—what it expressed—left a mysterious but certain impress. Grandmother's touch hallowed it and made it a thing apart, and the rare soul of her seemed to be reflected in the Lilies of the Valley that bloomed sweetly year by year in the shady plot under her favorite window in the sitting-room. Because the garden was her special province, it expressed her own sturdy, kindly nature. Little wonder, then, that we cherished it; that I loved to roam idly there feeling the enfoldment of that same protection and loving-kindness which drew me to the shelter of her gingham-aproned lap when the griefs of Boyhood pressed too hard upon me; and that we walked in it so contentedly in the cool of the evening, after the Four O'clocks had folded their purple petals for the night.

      Grandmother's garden, like all real gardens, wasn't just flowers and fragrance.

      There was a brick walk leading from the front gate to the sitting-room entrance—red brick, all moss-grown, and with the tiny weeds and grasses pushing up between the bricks. In the garden proper the paths were of earth, bordered and well-defined by inch-wide boards that provided jolly tight-rope practice until grandmother came anxiously out with her oft-repeated: Willie don't walk on those boards; you'll, break them down. And just after the warm spring showers these earthwalks always held tiny mud-puddles where the rain-bleached worms congregated until the robins

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1