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THE LANTERN OUT OF DOORS Sometimes a lantern moves along the light, That interests our eyes. And who goes there? I think; where from and bound, I wonder, where, With, all down darkness wide, his wading light? Men go by me whom either beauty bright In mould or mind or what not else makes rare:
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I had intended to write about something else today, a couple of somethings else, actually, but was occupied with other things well into the evening, and in any case I would have a very hard time focusing on anything but the letter released yesterday by Archbishop Vigano. Surely you've heard the story. If not, here
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Week 1: The Darkling Thrush (Thomas Hardy) Week 2: I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud (Wordsworth) Week 3: Drachenfels (Byron) Week 4: This Is Just to Say (Williams) Week 5: Conscientious Objector (Edna St. Vincent Millay) Week 6: The Servant Girl At Emmaus (Denise Levertov) Week 7: Pattern (C.S. Lewis) Week 8: Dover Beach (Matthew
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THE COUNTRY CLERGY I see them working in old rectories By the sun's light, by candlelight, Venerable men, their black cloth A little dusty, a little green With holy mildew. And yet their skulls, Ripening over so many prayers, Toppled into the same grave With oafs and yokels. They left no books, Memorial to their
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I feel obliged to say something about the latest eruption of sex-related scandals in the Church. I'm not sure exactly why I feel obliged. This blog is not primarily about religious matters, and a great deal happens in that realm that I don't feel any need to comment on. But as it is written by
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Thrice toss these oaken ashes in the air, Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair, Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot, And murmur soft "She will, or she will not." Go burn these pois'nous weeds in yon blue fire, These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar, This cypress gathered at
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Some years ago, probably quite a few though I'm not sure, I read a review of one of Joan Didion's books which said something to the effect that the chief or most engaging characteristic of her work is her sensibility. I may have that wrong, but whether or not it's what the reviewer said, it
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NON SUM QUALIS ERAM BONAE SUB REGNO CYNARAE Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine; And I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head: I have
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This is about language and literacy, and may come across as grumpy old man stuff. I really don't feel grumpy about it, though. Well, all right, I admit I do find it annoying, just a little. But mainly find it amusing, and interesting. Language develops, and frequently the developments are accidental and involve ignorance and/or
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IN THE TIME OF THE TUMULT OF NATIONS We thought that the worst was behind us in the time of the tumult of nations. We planned and we saved for the future in the time of the tumult of nations. The crowds in the streets were uneasy in the time of the tumult of nations.
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Light On Dark Water 