tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6000858382516594426.post6282503127012757369..comments2023-10-06T08:10:05.853-04:00Comments on Necromancy Never Pays: Emblems of Perfect HappinessJeannehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01374498643286099244noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6000858382516594426.post-63839978608339275752009-01-27T20:50:00.000-05:002009-01-27T20:50:00.000-05:00I must be British at my soul as well as in my gene...I must be British at my soul as well as in my genealogy, then. One of my favorite seasonal snatches of poetry comes from Elinor Wylie:<BR/><BR/> Down to the Puritan marrow of my bones <BR/>There's something in this richness that I hate. <BR/>I love the look , austere, immaculate, <BR/>Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones. <BR/>There's something in my very blood that owns <BR/>Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate, <BR/>A thread of water, churned to milky spate <BR/>Streaming through slanted pastures fenced with stones. <BR/><BR/>I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray. <BR/>Those fields, sparse planted, rendering meager sheaves;<BR/>That spring, briefer than the apple-blossom's breath, <BR/>Summer, so much too beautiful to stay, <BR/>Swift autumn, like a bonfire of leaves, <BR/>And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death. <BR/><BR/><BR/>I remember thinking, my first year at college, how I loved the look of the winter sky when it appeared as the rinsings of someone's watercolor brushes.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6000858382516594426.post-13951690380865947972008-07-01T09:01:00.000-04:002008-07-01T09:01:00.000-04:00I love it when teh "August weather breaks" and tha...I love it when teh "August weather breaks" and that first bit of fall is lovely. The "cold November in my soul" - Larkin is welcome to it.<BR/><BR/>-lemmingAnonymousnoreply@blogger.com