Tags: poem

flames of fire

Avoiding work at all costs

Ezra is taunting me from the bookshelf.

Though I like the name 'Ezra', like an old Hebrew patriarch (not to mention I have an uncle named Ezra), I'm pretty unfamiliar with Ezra Pound, except for snippets of gossip between him and Yeats at a party that took place before either of my parents were born. This book must be lillassea's... that's alright - in a moment's resistance, any distraction will do.

"Selected Poems"! You mock me!

Okay, okay... I relent!

The Tree

I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;
Of Daphne and the laurel bough
And that god-feasting couple old
That grew elm-oak amid the wold.
'Twas not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within
Unto the hearth of their heart's home
That they might do this wonder thing;
Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.
flames of fire

One of my favorite poems as an adolescent

I was just thinking about gifts from my freshman American Literature class, so helpful to my raw and exposed mind, struggling in freedom from belief, coming out of an evangelical protestant upbringing. The Naturalists broke down, levelled, while the Transcendentalists built up - solve et coagula.

Finding my place in the history of the world, my need for an afterlife diminished. I felt a certain kinship with the land, and that there was a part of me that was as old as stone. When the earth began, I began. When/if the universe collapses into a singularity, I end, too. Of course, if I'm graced with an afterlife, I won't complain, but the meaning inherent in my life is not contigent upon an immortal soul.

My favorite poem then, one of the gifts from literature class, was Thanatopsis.

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