Wednesday, September 28, 2011

In the darkness and the many shapes of joyless daylight.










"While with and eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

                    If this
Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! How oft--
In darkness and amid the many shapes
Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--
How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,
O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods,
   How oft has my spirit..."

-Tintern Abbey

Saturday, September 10, 2011

On a class discussion that perturbed my spirit

Why is it that now we cannot say, "I will love you forever"? 
Our faith in permanence is permanently shaken.
Yet, I for one, will love you forever, "Till a' the seas gone dry." Call Burns' poetry bad if you will, but I'd rather relate to "bad" poetry than the excrement of rotten hearts. 

Sunday, September 4, 2011