The wastelands westward

+++ PASSAGE OVER WATER by Robert Duncan We have gone out in boats upon the sea at night, lost, and the vast waters close traps of fear about us.The boats are driven apart, and we are alone at last under the incalculable sky, listless, diseased with stars. Let the oars be idle, my love, and forget at this timeour love like a knife between usdefining the boundaries that we can never cross nor destroy as we drift into the heart of our dream, cutting the silence, slyly, the bitter rain in our mouths and the dark wound closed in behind…

Holy Sonnet 14

Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for youAs yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bendYour force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.I, like an usurp’d town to another due,Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,But am betroth’d unto your enemy;Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,Take me to you, imprison me, for I,Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,Nor ever chaste,…

To be fallen in love with: Duly inferior: Aspired to a shrubbery.

+++ From Mansfield Park +++“Her brother was not handsome: no, when they first saw him he was absolutely plain, black and plain; but still he was the gentleman, with a pleasing address. The second meeting proved him not so very plain: he was plain, to be sure, but then he had so much countenance, and his teeth were so good, and he was so well made, that one soon forgot he was plain; and after a third interview, after dining in company with him at the Parsonage, he was no longer allowed to be called so by anybody. He was, in…

My soul sometimes

+++ “…whoever will look narrowly into his own heart, will hardly find himself twice in the same condition. I give to my soul sometimes one face and sometimes another, according to the side I turn her to.” +++“…’tis not all the understanding has to do, simply to judge us by our outward actions; it must penetrate the very soul, and there discover by what springs the motion is guided. “ -Montaigne, “On the Inconstancy of Our Actions” +++

How is’t, my soul? Let’s talk; it is not day.

SCENE V. Capulet’s orchard. Enter ROMEO and JULIET above, at the window JULIET Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:It was the nightingale, and not the lark,That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. ROMEO It was the lark, the herald of the morn,No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaksDo lace the severing clouds in yonder east:Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund dayStands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.I must be gone and live, or stay and die. JULIET Yon light is not day-light, I…

In which to move his wings.

+++ From Wordsworth’s Preface to the Lyrical Ballads. +++ “The Man of science seeks truth as a remote and unknown benefactor; he cherishes and loves it in his solitude: the Poet, singing a song in which all human beings join with him, rejoices in the presence of truth as our visible friend and hourly companion. Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science. Emphatically may it be said of the Poet, as Shakespeare hath said of man, ‘that he looks before and after.’ He is…