April 21, 2009

March Evening

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Let the delightful words of this beautiful poem,
charm and inspire your busy day.


--Description: 20th C., Lowell A., Seasons-

Blue through the window burns the twilight;
Heavy, through trees, blows the warm south wind.
Glistening, against the chill, gray sky light,
Wet, black branches are barred and entwined.
Sodden and spongy, the scarce-green grass plot
Dents into pools where a foot has been.
Puddles lie spilt in the road a mass, not
Of water, but steel, with its cold, hard sheen.
Faint fades the fire on the hearth, its embers
Scattering wide at a stronger gust.
Above, the old weathercock groans, but remembers
Creaking, to turn, in its centuried rust.
Dying, forlorn, in dreary sorrow,
Wrapping the mists round her withering form,
Day sinks down; and in darkness to-morrow
Travails to birth in the womb of the storm.


--Did You Know: Though she sometimes wrote sonnets, Lowell was an early adherent to the "free verse" method of poetry and one of the major champions of this method. Untermeyer writes that "She was not only a disturber but an awakener."

--Word of the Day: bellwether \BEL-weth-uhr\, noun
Meaning: A leader of a movement or activity; also, a leading indicator of future trends.
Example: Raised to believe they were among their generation's best and brightest, my class can be seen as a bellwether for a generation caught without a compass on the cutting edge of uncharted territory.

(Elizabeth Fishel, Reunion: The Girls We Used to Be, the Women We Became)

--Quote of the Day: Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.
(Thomas Carlyle)

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