Iambic inspiration
Whenever my writing hand gets itchy, and I'm starved for inspiration, I have a habit of copying down poems that I've committed to memory. It's a short-lived diversion, since I have exactly four poems memorized (not counting the General Prologue to the Canterbury Tales or The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams [thanks, Lester]). Three of the poems are by Robert Frost, one is by John Updike. If you happened to be paging through any of my college notebooks, you'd find these poems scattered throughout (along with pages full of my signature, and lists of all of the U.S. states and their capitals).
As a dutiful English major trained in the art of hermeneutics, I look to these poems for insight into whatever problem is facing me at the current moment, and I'm usually able to find it. What would Robert Frost have to say about my current situation? He'd probably remind me that my idealized youth was bound to come to a bitter end sooner or later. And Updike? He'd probably assure me that adulthood is just a melancholy march to the Great Beyond. (Maybe that's not what they'd actually say, but all that matters is that, at this particular moment, that's what I think they'd say.)
It makes me happy that I know a few poems by heart, and I'm OK with the fact that three of them are by Robert Frost (I wish I could memorize "Birches," but it's a little long). The constancy of poems is soothing. Writing them down is like seeing an old friend.
Below are those four poems, in whatever order they happen to come out. My apologies to the authors for any typos or lacunas.
---------------------------------------
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know
His house is in the village though
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake
These woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep
--------------------
Shipbored
by John Updike
That line is the horizon line
The blue above it is divine
The blue below it is marine
Sometimes the blue below is green
Sometimes the blue above is grey
Betokening a cloudy day
Sometimes the blue below is white
Foreshadowing a windy night
Sometimes a drifting coconut
Or albatross adds color but
The blue above is mostly blue
The blue below and I are too
--------------------
Fire and Ice
by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice
----------------
Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay
As a dutiful English major trained in the art of hermeneutics, I look to these poems for insight into whatever problem is facing me at the current moment, and I'm usually able to find it. What would Robert Frost have to say about my current situation? He'd probably remind me that my idealized youth was bound to come to a bitter end sooner or later. And Updike? He'd probably assure me that adulthood is just a melancholy march to the Great Beyond. (Maybe that's not what they'd actually say, but all that matters is that, at this particular moment, that's what I think they'd say.)
It makes me happy that I know a few poems by heart, and I'm OK with the fact that three of them are by Robert Frost (I wish I could memorize "Birches," but it's a little long). The constancy of poems is soothing. Writing them down is like seeing an old friend.
Below are those four poems, in whatever order they happen to come out. My apologies to the authors for any typos or lacunas.
---------------------------------------
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know
His house is in the village though
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake
These woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep
--------------------
Shipbored
by John Updike
That line is the horizon line
The blue above it is divine
The blue below it is marine
Sometimes the blue below is green
Sometimes the blue above is grey
Betokening a cloudy day
Sometimes the blue below is white
Foreshadowing a windy night
Sometimes a drifting coconut
Or albatross adds color but
The blue above is mostly blue
The blue below and I are too
--------------------
Fire and Ice
by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction, ice
Is also great
And would suffice
----------------
Nothing Gold Can Stay
by Robert Frost
Nature's first green is gold
Her hardest hue to hold
Her early leaf's a flower
But only so an hour
Then leaf subsides to leaf
So Eden sank to grief
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay
posted by temporarily unemployed at 02:26
3 Comments:
Hey Lady!
I have those four poems memorized too! The third one is your fault; the others I just knew.
Also I think "The Red Wheelbarrow" is by William Carlos Williams.
And by third I meant second. The Updike one.
Hey "lady?" Mike, is there something we should know about how you've been spending your days?
~C
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