Saturday, January 27, 2024

( via / me )

417 versions of Ode I.5. (via @amjuster)

         "As take
dilute essence of the best Ionic anaximanders and shake in
some well merlin'd extract of vergil."

--The Anathemata

"The past is never dead. It's not even past."

"Aubade

The snow still falls in dry and powdery grains,
Fills the green footprints on the whitened grass;
A gusty wind still turns the weather-vanes
And whirls a frosted leaf about a court
Where boys are sliding, while a pane of glass
Cracks in the cold with a subdued report.

Last night that snow more grossly, densely fell;
Each antlered tree tossed flakes upon its tines,
And whiteness filled the gaping of each cell
In an old wasps' nest hanging from a bough
That held it to the storm; those tell-tale lines
Upon the blank sward were not made till now.

For it was I, who, wakened by a light
That made the close-drawn bedroom curtains glow
Too soon for the dead season, and too bright,
Felt then a chill through blankets to the bone
Which told that while I slept there had been snow,
Went down to tread it, early and alone."

--Edward Lucie-Smith in: Penguin Modern Poets 6 (1964)

Collaboration.

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