28 Jan 2020
Day 7. Today’s poem of the day is Time and Eternity lxxxv.
They say that “time assuages”,—
Time never did assuage;
An actual suffering strengthens,
As sinews do, with age.
Time is a test of trouble,
But not a remedy.
If such it prove, it prove too
There was no malady.
This one makes me a little sad, even if it’s usually true. This short poem calls
out the wisdom of the saying “time heals all wounds”. It doesn’t. And while, this is
probably not the original intent, I read Time and Eternity 85 as a call to action.
Sure, driftwood stranded in the middle of sea might strike a lucky ride on a current
to somewhere sunny. That driftwood might wash ashore on a tropical paradise without
paying the the expense of energy or intention. But more often than not, if you
blindly go with the flow, you’ll end up in
a giant pile of trash in the middle of the ocean.
Instead, we should be intentional in our living—especially when it comes to
solving our problems. When you’re up to your neck in the water of life, pick a
direction and start swimming. If you don’t like where you’re headed, change course.
27 Jan 2020
Day 6. After a short hiatus, we’re back! Today’s poem of the day
is Love xxxi.
The moon is distant from the sea,
And yet with amber hands
She leads him, docile as a boy,
Along appointed sands.
He never misses a degree;
Obedient to her eye,
He comes just so far toward the town,
Just so far goes away.
Oh, Signor, thine the amber hand,
And mine the distant sea,—
Obedient to the least command
Thine eyes impose on me.
Powerful stuff. The ocean is raucous and strong. And yet the moon asserts her
influence, measured and constant, from a distance. Imagine if a person could do
that to you. Just imagine.
10 Jan 2020
Day 5. Today’s poem of the day is Love liii.
Let me not mar that perfect dream
By an auroral stain,
But so adjust my daily night
That it will come again.
I don’t know how I feel about this one. I really like the northern lights. Ever since I first saw
them I’ve been jonesing for another fix.
09 Jan 2020
Day 4. Today’s poem of the day is Nature xlix.
Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze.
A few incisive mornings,
A few ascetic eves,—
Gone Mr. Bryant’s golden-rod,
And Mr. Thomson’s sheaves.
Still is the bustle in the brook,
Sealed are the spicy valves;
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The eyes of many elves.
Perhaps a squirrel may remain,
My sentiments to share.
Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind,
Thy windy will to bear!
This poem is in honor of yesterday’s snow squall. Also, I like squirrels, or as they
say in Italian, gli scoiattoli.
08 Jan 2020
Day 3. Today’s poem of the day is The Single Hound xxiii.
The suburbs of a secret
A strategist should keep,
Better than on a dream intrude
To scrutinize the sleep.
I like this one because it’s about being a good friend and also maybe about
sleep. I don’t think it’s wholesale correct, but it does rhyme.