BEYOND THE GREEN GATE On Sunday, April 20, 2008, the congregeation of Penn Yan First Baptist received the news that Ralph W. Seager had just passed "beyond the Green Gate". He was a very young 96 years of age, retaining his sharpness of mind, quick wit and love of story telling to the very end. The one thing he missed in life was his beloved wife and school time sweetheart, Ruth, who had passed away nearly three years before.
by Ralph W. Seager
He stands at last in the vast and lovely meadow,
Beyond the green gate at the lane's far end;
Where climb the pleasant slopes that rise unshadowed,
With fair skys bent upon the earth's green bend.
In his new fields there is no need for portals,
No fence forbids, no warning post, no bar,
He looks back, waves high, and knows contentment
Seeing that he has left each gate ajar.
Ralph was truly a poet laureate. His biographical data is included in "Who's Who in Poetry". He received the "Certificate of Merit for Distinguished Contributions to Poetry" from the "International Who's Who in Poetry, Cambridge, England".
Ralph authored numerous books of poetry including the award winning and acclaimed "Beyond The Green Gate" and "Wheatfields and Vineyards". He directed more than thirty poetry workshops at nationally established writers' conferences, and served as a finalist judge in city, regional and state poetry contests. His poetry has been read worldwide by Basil Rathbone over NBC's Monitor program, on the Coptic Church program over Cairo Radio in Egypt, over Armed Service Radio, and on networks in the greater Chicago area. Many magazines including the Christmas 2004 issue of Ideals Magazine carried poems and articles by Ralph.
Closer to home, Ralph was named Professor Emeritus at Keuka College where he taught English and Creative Poetry. He also volunteered as mentor and workshop leader at the Yates County Jail, where he worked with inmates to produce a book of their works, "Writings On The Wall".
On a personal note, I have always felt a special closeness to my friend Ralph. It was over eighty five years ago that he was one of my mother's students at a one room schoolhouse in the little hamlet of Guyonoga, New York.
It was a special joy to hear Ralph read his poetry, as it was delivered with the same feeling and emotion as is contained within the written lines.
... Dick Johnson
"The Extravagance of God" | |
More sky than man can see |
More breath than he can breathe, More yield than he can sow, More grace than he can comprehend, More love than he can know. ...Ralph W. Seager |
He has callers every Sunday; |
Wheat and Grapes - Ralph W. Seager Bluff Point farmers sow their wheat Close against their Concord vines, Where purple goblets hold the wines That rain and sunshine pour so sweet. Bluff point farmers see it right That wheat and vineyards should unite, Since bread and wine fulfill this union In the serving of Communion.
Come walk with me down this waterfall staircaseA Barn is a Miracle by Ralph W. Seager
that descends from Keuka to Seneca Lake.
We'll follow the path of the old Fall Brook Railroad,
retracing the way the trains used to take.
We'll bend by "Old Bluenose" which glaciers discarded,
leaving their keepsake to landmark the trail,
and work our way downward past ice-era ages
that cut through the gorge of Genesee shale.
Moss, rose and dogwood reach out their greetings
while wild phlox stand pale and shyly apart.
Indian paintbrush sways at our footsteps
as clusters of berries clutch at the heart.
We draw ever closer to the cascade's cadenza,
where its musical art of wood, wind, and reed,
and the drum's somber booming from tympani bullfrogs
tunes the cataract's concert which our ears may well heed.
We stop by the mill sites that stand silent duty
like outposts that plead for the garrison's return.
Their lift gates are rusted, the mill races empty
where the grinding of grain was man's main concern.
And here, the canal, with its locks of stone blocks
that never would earn the promise fulfilled.
Gone is the mule path, the barge and the cargo,
the grist and the lumber that once was here milled.
This still is the homeland of the furred and the feathered,
the scaled and the gilled. The kingfisher clatters
the echoing chasm where sun-sleeping turtles
siesta the logs, and the garter snake scatters
his jewels like a necklace when its string becomes broken
and spills as it shatters. We cannot fail
to safeguard this treasure. The wealth of the Kingdom
is a heritage won and must always prevail.
So it's up to the living, like you who walk with me,
to become the caretakers of the Outlet Trail.
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"The rainbow of spring is in the air
And it's pastel arch must end right there
By the edge of the lawn where I behold
It's treasury filled with crocus-gold."
---By Ralph W. Seager
The Woman Taken -By Ralph W. Seager Ho! Rabbi, standing there See what we caught in our snare. A clutter of men in the marketplace Came dragging a woman by her arms and hair. They closed and opened like a fang-filled face, Then, with a shout, spat her out To huddle at the Rabbi's feet Clutching the shroud of her guilty sheet. Her accusers ran to the ruined wall And broke off fragments until they all Held in their fists the verdict stone As she lay crumpled and alone. The Rabbi spoke above the din, This woman's guilt is some man's sin. How then can any stone you cast Condemn the first but not the last? Ho! Rabbi, standing there The law is just; the law is fair. Take a stone in your holy hand And strike with us who so declare. But He stood away from the righteous band And on his knee kneeled to see The travesty they never saw: The woman, broken, on the broken law.
I'll stand beside the keeper of the inn,
Challenging those who charge him with the sin
That let the child be born within his stable.
I say he did the best that he was able
Under the circumstance. Where else would there
Be privacy and summer-scented air?
The beasts, benign in their nobility,
Stood watch: and this, at least it seems to me,
Gave courtesy unto the act of birth.
The hostel must have reeled with raucous mirth
Jangling the laden night with feast and dance
As Roman taxes found the dice of chance.
Only a wise man would have seen the manger
As a cradle beyond the pry of stranger.
When pompous fingers shame his guiltless deed,
I'm on his side, disciple of the need
To say he was the wisest one of all,
Providing the sanctuary of the stall.
---Ralph W. Seager
Tell me is the Child still there? For I am too busy to look. There are hundreds of Christmas cards to mail To names in an address book. Tell me is the Child still there? I can't take the time to see, With turkey to buy and presents to tie, And lights for the Yuletide tree. Tell me is the Child still there? I haven't had the chance, What with parties and pageants, and all, And arranging the office dance. Tell me is the Child still there? I've come at last to call; But the shepherds I can barely see, And the wee Babe not at all. ~ ~ Ralph W. Seager |