Month: November 2003

  • In a Disused Graveyard

    Its worth contrasting Auden’s cemetary with Frost’s graveyard: In a Disused Graveyard by Robert Frost The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never anymore the dead. The verses in it say and say: “The ones who living come today To read the […]

  • Island Cemetery

    I have mentioned a couple of Auden poems from Homage to Clio, the book from which came The More Loving One. Here is one of them that I like a lot. My only trouble with it is the “thank our lucky star” line. Was this less of a cliche when the poem was written or […]

  • Poet: 1935

    Poet: 1935 by Dylan Thomas See, on gravel paths under the harpstrung trees He steps so near the water that a swan’s wing Might play upon his lank locks with its wind, The lake’s voice and the rolling of mock waves Make discord with the voice within his ribs That thunders as heart thunders, slows […]

  • Unfortunate

    Unfortunate by Rupert Brooke Heart, you are as restless as a paper scrap   That’s tossed down dusty pavements by the wind ;   Saying, ‘She is most wise, patient and kind. Between the small hands folded in her lap Surely a shamed head may bow down at length,   And find forgiveness where the shadows stir About […]

  • Snippets

    From my law school applications: Lines Written Upon Reading the Caption Below a Picture of Natalie Portman with Her Hand Down the Back of Her Jeans, which Said Something about Ants in Her Pants by Me, Unfortunately Let us make haste, depart ; she will not dance. Let us quaff our drinks and leave for […]

  • Where and Bueno?

    Jon’s place. 6:30. Bueno.

  • This Thursday

    The poems: The Sun, Mary Oliver/A Leave-Taking, Algernon Swinburne We can do my place or whatever is most convenient…. If people have opinions, please post comments.

  • Poem 2

    The Sun by Mary Oliver Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone— and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on […]

  • A second poem

    Heidi’s favorite poet is Mary Oliver. Contemporary. Female. A writer of books on meter, sound and other matters of form. Her own poetry is only indirectly so sturctured. I found a poem by her that I think would be a good counterpoint to the Swinburne. Its called the sun. Its quite different in tone and […]

  • Where Mind of Winter Comes From

    The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens One must have a mind of winter To regard the frost and the boughs Of the pine-trees crusted with snow; And have been cold a long time To behold the junipers shagged with ice, The spruces rough in the distant glitter Of the January sun; and not to think […]