The 13^th Anniversary of Ken Kronberg's Death

Thirteen years ago today, April 11, 2007, Ken Kronberg died a suicide – but really not a suicide, really a victim of Lyndon LaRouche and his monstrous imaginings.

Now that LaRouche himself has died, called to the bar of the heavenly court, there is no more reason to discuss him or the terrible pain he inflicted on Ken.

Ken is what counts. Ken was a man of great heart, great love, great learning, great kindness. He is missed and mourned by far more than the sad remnant LaRouche left behind.

Every day I think of Ken; most nights I dream of him. Our son does the same, and his fiancée, who never met Ken, does likewise. Ken had enormous influence, enormous reach. If Lyn is lucky, perhaps Ken will say a good word for him at the Judgment Seat. It's possible, because Ken was such a good man.

As I have been doing for many years now, I am reproducing here some poems (and one hymn) that Ken loved and about which he taught.

 Poems for Ken

A Hymn to God the Father

BY JOHN DONNE

(1572-1631)

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
     Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
     And do run still, though still I do deplore?
          When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
               For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that sin which I have won
     Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin which I did shun
          A year or two, but wallow'd in, a score?
               When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
                    For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
     My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by thyself, that at my death thy Son
     Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore;
          And, having done that, thou hast done;
               I fear no more.

Sonnet 116

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

(1564–1616)

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

The Strife Is O'er

[TRADITIONAL HYMN]

1. The strife is o'er, the battle done,
    the victory of life is won;
    the song of triumph has begun.
    Alleluia!

2. The powers of death have done their worst,
    but Christ their legions hath dispersed:
    let shout of holy joy outburst.
    Alleluia!

3. The three sad days are quickly sped,
    he rises glorious from the dead:
    all glory to our risen Head!
    Alleluia!

4. He closed the yawning gates of hell,
    the bars from heaven's high portals fell;
    let hymns of praise his triumphs tell!
    Alleluia!

5. Lord! by the stripes which wounded thee,
    from death's dread sting thy servants free,
    that we may live and sing to thee.
    Alleluia!

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!