Etching of a Line of Trees on a Hill Above Auchterhouse by John Glenday
in memorium John Goodfellow Glenday
I carved out the careful absence of a hill and a hill grew. I cut away the fabric of the trees and the trees stood shivering in the darkness.
When I had burned off the last syllables of wind, a fresh wind rose and lingered. But because I could not bring myself
to remove you from that hill, you are no longer there. How wonderful it is that neither of us managed to survive
when it was love that surely pulled the burr and love that gnawed its own shape from the burnished air and love that bent that absent wind against a tree.
Some shadow's hands moved with my hands and everything I touched was turned to darkness and everything I could not touch was light.
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Dirge Without Music by Edna St Vincent Millay
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you. Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust. A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew, A formula, a phrase remains, - but the best is lost.
The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love, They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve. More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
no subject
Etching of a Line of Trees on a Hill Above Auchterhouse
by John Glenday
in memorium John Goodfellow Glenday
I carved out the careful absence of a hill and a hill grew.
I cut away the fabric of the trees
and the trees stood shivering in the darkness.
When I had burned off the last syllables of wind,
a fresh wind rose and lingered.
But because I could not bring myself
to remove you from that hill,
you are no longer there. How wonderful it is
that neither of us managed to survive
when it was love that surely pulled the burr
and love that gnawed its own shape from the burnished air
and love that bent that absent wind against a tree.
Some shadow's hands moved with my hands
and everything I touched was turned to darkness
and everything I could not touch was light.
****
Dirge Without Music
by Edna St Vincent Millay
I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.
Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,
A formula, a phrase remains, - but the best is lost.
The answers quick & keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,
They are gone. They have gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.