Category Archives: Poetry

Goose

Via the Laudator: Robert Southey (1774-1843), To a Goose: If thou didst feed on western plains of yore; Or waddle wide with flat and flabby feet Over some Cambrian mountain’s plashy moor; Or find in farmer’s yard a safe retreat … Continue reading

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Posted in Just Too Cool, Lighter fare, Poetry, What Fr. Z is up to | Tagged , , | 10 Comments

“I collect books just as others store grain….”

From the Laudator comes something with which I can sympathize: Yuan Mei (1716–1797), Book Storage, tr. J.D.Schmidt: I collect books just as others store grain, And bitterly complain I don’t have enough granaries. In order to make space for a … Continue reading

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“From office confinement all year long,…”

With a biretta tip to the Laudator: Wei Yingwu (737–792), East of the Town, tr. Witter Bynner: From office confinement all year long, I have come out of town to be free this morning Where willows harmonize the wind And … Continue reading

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PODCAzT 129: Of the solstice, and The Baptist, and summer poems

Here is a little PODCAzT after a long hiatus. Today, the Summer Solstice, I talk about the Summer Solstice, but in light of St. Augustine and St. John the Baptist. I mentioned this in another post, but I spin it … Continue reading

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Vespers, with a twist

Via the estimable Laudator comes this nice Chinese poem, which touches on themes of fishing, quiet, moonlight, common to many of the verses of the Tang dynasty scholars. Wang Wei (699-759), To Subprefect Chang (tr. Irving Y. Lo): In late years, … Continue reading

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PODCAzT 127: The Eve of St Agnes and a Bleak Midwinter

A priest friend reminded me that today is the day before St. Agnes Day, “The Eve of St Agnes” and that, therefore, this would be a good day to post about the famous poem by John Keats. And so I … Continue reading

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Shine, Perishing Republic

Shine, Perishing Republic by Robinson Jeffers (+1962) While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire, And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens, I sadly … Continue reading

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Spring poems

It is April and the world is slowly coming back to life.  Baseball season is back. I have made some PODCAzTs with seasonal poetry.  I am contemplating one for Spring. If you have a suggestion, perhaps you could drop me … Continue reading

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“The ultimate dark wherein the race shall die.”

Via the Laudator: Hilaire Belloc (1870-1953), January: It freezes—all across a soundless sky The birds go home. The governing dark’s begun: The steadfast dark that waits not for a sun; The ultimate dark wherein the race shall die. Death, with … Continue reading

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“The ground was one circle of solid red.”

It is past the season, but this is fine indeed, and it matches something of my mood and my To Do List. Via the Laudator: Robert Frost, Unharvested: A scent of ripeness from over a wall. And come to leave … Continue reading

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