Leisure (by William Henry Davies) What is this life if, full of care,We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughsAnd stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass,Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight,Streams […]
Ode (by Arthur O’Shaughnessy) We are the music-makers,And we are the dreamers of dreams,Wandering by lone sea-breakersAnd sitting by desolate streams;World losers and world forsakers,On whom the pale moon gleams:Yet we are the movers and shakersOf the world for ever, it seems. With wonderful deathless dittiesWe build up the world’s great cities.And out of a […]
What We Need Is Here (by Wendell Berry) Geese appear high over us,pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,as in love or sleep, holdsthem to their way, clearin the ancient faith: what we needis here. And we pray, notfor new earth or heaven, but to bequiet in heart, and in eye,clear. What we need is here.
I ask you (by Billy Collins) What scene would I want to be enveloped inmore than this one,an ordinary night at the kitchen table,floral wallpaper pressing in,white cabinets full of glass,the telephone silent,a pen tilted back in my hand? It gives me time to thinkabout all that is going on outside–leaves gathering in corners,lichen greening […]
Non-combatants (by Evelyn Underhill) Never of us be said That we reluctant stood As sullen children, and refused to dance To the keen pipe that sounds across the fields of France. Though shrill the note and wild, Though hard the steps and slow, The dancing floor defiled, The measure full of woe, And dread The […]
To know the dark (by Wendell Berry) To go in the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings, and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.
This is how my week began: Mr M, has a rash on his leg. Nothing serious, probably an allergic reaction to something or other and has been to the doctor and it’s all fine. BUT when the thing starts to itch he can only find relief by putting ice over it. So… do you know […]
As part of one of my modules this semester we’re briefly discussing the Dymock poets, a literary group of poets that in the years before the First World War lived and worked near the village of Dymock, approx 29 miles from my house. And I had never heard of them. Shame on me. Not only […]
Fall, Leaves, Fall (by Emily Bronte) Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day.
Traveling at Home (by Wendell Berry) Even in a country you know by heart it’s hard to go the same way twice. The life of the going changes. The chances change and make a new way. Any tree or stone or bird can be the bud of a new direction. The natural correction is to […]