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ontologyToday (22 February) is Edna St. Vincent Millay's birthday. charismitaine has an utterly fabulous commemorative entry which all of you should read, but I must at least make some offering in celebration of one of my favourite poets.
For those of you who have not yet read it, and do not know my long and rather fantastic complex relationship with it, this may very well be my favourite poem. It is also my anthem. (You should also read Patricia MacLachlan's book Baby, which was where I first met this poem; I then became re-acquainted with it in the Americans' Favourite Poems anthology and had one of those rare rushes of seeing-past-the-curtain I refer to, after L.M. Montgomery, as the flash. ...Aaand then I wrote a story.)
And another, which I have posted before, which also gave me the flash. After a scene in Rosemary Sutcliff's The Eagle of the Ninth, Lethe has always been one of my special things.
Lastly, a particular treat: Vincent's poetry set to music (cello and piano) by Erica Mulkey, also known as Unwoman. It sounds exactly right.
(And perhaps I shall simply call this Vincent's Birthday Weekend, because goodness knows I could use more geekery in my life, so beware, for poetry might spring upon you when you least expect it.)
charismitaine has an utterly fabulous commemorative entry which all of you should read, but I must at least make some offering in celebration of one of my favourite poets. For those of you who have not yet read it, and do not know my long and rather fantastic complex relationship with it, this may very well be my favourite poem. It is also my anthem. (You should also read Patricia MacLachlan's book Baby, which was where I first met this poem; I then became re-acquainted with it in the Americans' Favo
dirge without music
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, -- but the best is lost.
The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, -- but the best is lost.
The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
And another, which I have posted before, which also gave me the flash. After a scene in Rosemary Sutcliff's The Eagle of the Ninth, Lethe has always been one of my special things.
lethe
Ah, drink again
This river that is the taker-away of pain
And the giver-back of beauty!
In these cool waves
What can be lost?--
Only the sorry cost
Of the lovely thing, ah, never the thing itself!
The level flood that laves
The hot brow
And the stiff shoulder
Is at our temples now.
Gone is the fever,
But not into the river;
Melted the frozen pride,
But the tranquil tide
Runs never the warmer for this,
Never the colder.
Immerse the dream.
Drench the kiss.
Dip the song in the stream.
Ah, drink again
This river that is the taker-away of pain
And the giver-back of beauty!
In these cool waves
What can be lost?--
Only the sorry cost
Of the lovely thing, ah, never the thing itself!
The level flood that laves
The hot brow
And the stiff shoulder
Is at our temples now.
Gone is the fever,
But not into the river;
Melted the frozen pride,
But the tranquil tide
Runs never the warmer for this,
Never the colder.
Immerse the dream.
Drench the kiss.
Dip the song in the stream.
Lastly, a particular treat: Vincent's poetry set to music (cello and piano) by Erica Mulkey, also known as Unwoman. It sounds exactly right.
(And perhaps I shall simply call this Vincent's Birthday Weekend, because goodness knows I could use more geekery in my life, so beware, for poetry might spring upon you when you least expect it.)
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no subject
Date: 2008-02-23 05:15 am (UTC)When I have ink again, I'm going to have to print it out and stick it up somewhere in my room. Perhaps by my Gandhi poster. *grins*
no subject
Date: 2008-02-23 11:27 am (UTC)(Lethe makes me quite sad, actually (good sad though). It reminds me of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.)
no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 12:37 am (UTC)I found a copy of Eagle in a second-hand bookshop! Hurrah! It's not as pretty as the adorable 1950s/1960s hardback version with beautiful woodcut-style illustrations they have in my university library, but still.
As for your post: beautiful stuff, I shall definitely have to hunt some more down. Curse poetry books for being so expensive, but I still have some book vouchers, and there are always libraries.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 03:20 am (UTC)Happy Vincent's Birthday Weekend! I need to get some of her poetry as well as Eliot's. I am such a procrastinating geek. :D But lately, like I said, poetry seems so real, like earth or soil, but it also has that surreal aspect, but it still seems so truthful and tangible. Isn't it wonderful that way?
Er, yes. I am a geek. I'm going to get glasses soon. I've even started doing math on weekends. Hurray. :D