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Friday, December 21, 2012

Poetry Friday--A.E. Housman

Today is the winter solstice and normally we might think of celebrating, but this past week has been a time of great sorrow.

Here's a poem from A.E. Housman from The Collected Poems [821 HOU], it is in the section "More Poems," and has no name, only the number XLIII.
I wake from dreams and turning
   My vision on the height
I scan the beacons burning
   About the field of night.

Each in its steadfast station
   In flaming heaven they flare;
They sign with conflagration
   The empty moors of air.

The signal-fires of warming
   They blaze, but none regard;
And on through night to morning
   The world runs ruinward.
I admit, that last word is a little awkward, but it certainly fits my vision of the world this week!

Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe is hosting the Poetry Friday Round-Up where, I hope, more uplifting poems will be found. And don't worry, I'll post a delightfully happy Christmas poem on Tuesday!

2 comments:

  1. Oh, what a poem of despair! I really loved

    They sign with conflagration
    The empty moors of air.

    Great images here. Perfect poem to read while grieving the ills of the world, probably. But I wouldn't want to wallow in this poem-world very long...

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  2. I'm definitely not one for wallowing! Have a great holiday!

    ReplyDelete