We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Our Recent Essays Behind the Front Page
Saturday, July 26. 2014
The year's at the spring
Those famous lines are from Browning's 1841 Pippa Passes. It's Pippa's song. Pippa is a silk mill worker in Asolo, and has three holidays per year. The poem goes through the morning, noon, evening and night of Pippa's day off. She treasures her precious free time. This is from "Morning":
Oh, Day, if I squander a wavelet of thee,
O'er Jules and Phene, what care bride and groom
Worship whom else? For am I not, this day,
The entire piece is here. Yes, Browning specialized in the dramatic monologue. I can easily imagine Pippa as a one-person stage performance. Off topic, but I always got a kick out of the name of Pippa Passes, KY, aka Caney Creek.
Saturday, July 19. 2014
Break of Day
'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be?
Image is Picasso's Meditation, 1904
Saturday, July 12. 2014
All I know is a door into the dark.
Saturday, June 28. 2014
I am as lovely as a dream in stone;
Before my monumental attitudes,
For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts,
Saturday, June 21. 2014
The Ballad of East and West
Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet
Rest of his poem below on Continuation page
Continue reading "Saturday Verse: Kipling"
Saturday, June 7. 2014
Nights on Lake Como
What do you take from these starry nights,
(translation by William Ruleman - details here)
Saturday, May 31. 2014
A Considerable Speck
A speck that would have been beneath my sight
Saturday, May 24. 2014
A Miracle for Breakfast
At six o'clock we were waiting for coffee,
A piece about Bishop in the WSJ
Saturday, May 17. 2014
Saturday, May 10. 2014
The Fiddler of Dooney
WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney,
You can listen to Yeats reading it, here.
Saturday, May 3. 2014
A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
Saturday, April 26. 2014
All we need is fourteen lines, well, thirteen now,
Saturday, April 12. 2014
Hours before dawn we were woken by the quake.
And far too large for my feet to step by.
It seemed quite safe till she got up and dressed.
The language problem but you have to try.
None of these deaths were her point at all.
I slept, and blank as that I would yet lie.
Tell me again about Europe and her pains,
A bedshift flight to a Far Eastern sky.
Tell me more quickly what I lost by this,
But as to risings, I can tell you why.
The poem is partly about WW2, I think. An "aubade" is a lyric poem about lovers separating at dawn. Sir William Empson, a poet and great literary critic, wrote the fascinating and masterful 7 Types of Ambiguity (when he was 21), which I recommend to anyone who enjoys language and writing.
Saturday, April 5. 2014
ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD
The rest of the poem is below the fold. Dalrymple recently discussed Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey)
Continue reading "Saturday Verse: Thomas Grey (1717-1771)"
Saturday, March 15. 2014
The evening comes, the fields are still
Part II (below) is even better
Continue reading "Saturday Verse: Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)"
Saturday, March 8. 2014
My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like the Sun
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Saturday, March 1. 2014
To A Skylark
Hail to thee blithe spirit!
Higher still and higher
Continue reading "Saturday Verse: Percy Bysshe Shelley "
Saturday, February 22. 2014
A Lady at her Mirror (Translated by Len Krisak)
As spices blend into her sleeping-drink,
Krisak's translations often appear in The New English Review, with this: Len Krisak has published in The London Magazine, The Oxonian Review, PN Review, Standpoint, Agni, The Antioch Review, The Sewanee Review, The Hudson Review, The Dark Horse, Agenda, The Hopkins Review, Commonweal, Literary Imagination, The Oxford Book of Poems on Classical Mythology, and others. His latest book is Virgil’s Eclogues, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010. Forthcoming: The Carmina of Catullus, Carcanet Press, 2015, Afterimage, Measure Press, 2014, Rilke: New Poems, Boydell & Brewer, 2015 and Ovid: The Amores and The Ars Amatoria, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014.
Saturday, February 15. 2014
Saturday, February 8. 2014
On His Blindness
Milton's best-known sonnet (c. 1652) was written shortly after blindness overtook him. This poem is briefly but well-discussed here.
Saturday, February 1. 2014
Not but they die, the teasers and the dreams,
Continue reading "Saturday Verse: William Empson (1906-1984)"
Saturday, January 25. 2014
Dream Song 45: He stared at ruin
He stared at ruin. Ruin stared straight back.
Here's the wiki on Berryman.
Saturday, January 18. 2014
The House by the Side of the Road
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
I see from my house by the side of the road,
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911) wrote plain verse for the "common man". Homey, corny, comfortably instructive stuff. In fact, for many years Foss turned out a poem a day for his local Somerville, MA newspaper. We recently saw a graveyard monument (1936) with "Let me live by the side of the road and be a friend to man." inscribed upon it.
Saturday, January 11. 2014
The Wood Pile
Out walking in the frozen swamp one grey day
Image is Robert Frost's New Hampshire farmhouse.
Saturday, January 4. 2014
The Sicilian Mariner's Prayer
O Sanctissima O Piissima
Tota pulchraes O Maria
Sicut lilium inter spinas
In miseria in angustia
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