Saturday, April 18, 2009



and now

Friday, April 17, 2009

There is no limit to how high our spirits can soar if we only allow them the freedom to do so.

To Althea From Prison

When Love with unconfined wings
Hovers within my gates,
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at my grates;
When I lie tangled in her hair
And fettered with her eye,
The birds that wanton in the air
Know no such liberty.
When flowing cups pass swiftly round
With no allaying Thames,
Our careless heads with roses crowned,

Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep,
When healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.

When, linnet-like confined,
With shriller throat shall sing
The mercy, sweetness, majesty
And glories of my King;
When I shall voice aloud how good
He is, how great should he,
Enlarge'd winds, that curl the flood,
Know no such liberty.

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage:
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

- Colonel Richard Lovelace

Thursday, April 16, 2009

I don't know. Maybe it's that I've always felt myself more able to take care of myself after a rejection. Maybe it's the thought that I don't merit or maybe don't even want to deal with too much of another's ardor.

The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,

- W. H. Auden

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Instead of worrying about impending deadlines, have been spending way too much time among the Romans lately, revisiting Aeneas's exploits, and other events leading to the founding of the city which so influenced what we are today.

Have really been getting into reading history lately as, not only can you move about location-wise, you can jump from age to age. Talk about great escapes.

There is no frigate like a book

There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away,
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears a Human soul.

-Emily Dickinson

Tuesday, April 14, 2009


Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

-Langston Hughes

(Am a bit overwhelmed; don't know how everything that needs to be done will be done. One, maybe two dreams are keeping me afloat right now.)

Monday, April 13, 2009

Stood outside in the near freezing morning to admire my violas and pansies. Small, unassuming, but able to withstand an unexpected chill, they are weathering very nicely and infusing a not particularly charming place with a bit of much-needed cheer.

The Violet

Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew;
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its colors bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go,
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.

-Jane Taylor

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Across the street at the hospital, I saw the first blooming cherry tree of the year. Brave thing to put its blossoms out on such a chilly day.

A Shropshire Lad, II

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

-A. E. Housman

(Happy Easter.)


Ralph Vaughan Williams set a number of Houseman's poems to music in his cycle On Wenlock Edge. Though the above is not included here, found this recording interesting for the historical context it gives.