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The Darkling Thrush
By Thomas Hardy (1902)
I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-gray, And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires. The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy, The wind his death-lament. The ancient pulse of germ and birth Was shrunken hard and dry, And every spirit upon earth Seemed fervourless as I. At once a voice arose among The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong Of joy illimited; An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom. So little cause for carolings Of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things Afar or nigh around, That I could think there trembled through His happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew And I was unaware. |
This was written in 1900, as
a scared look at the dawn of the twentieth century. He was right to be scared, the twentieth
century was a horrifying one in many ways, as the rise of "isms" led to the death of millions.
And yet, there were some wonderful things that came along, too; not
least the landing on the moon, and the amazing progress in medicine, and the
invention of the computer and other technology.
Christmas was even better
than I’d hoped. I got lots of really neat
gifts, and my own giving seemed to be unusually welcome. An example: Tanya stitched and framed my favorite
literary jest, from Fred Allen: “I don’t know why anyone would write a book
when for a few dollars she could buy one.”
How often, when struggling with a plot, I’ve sighed that!
Today I begin the research
into a gay wedding. It’ll be the subplot
of the next novel and therefore it’s safe to begin working on it. Godwin and Rafael’s wedding – Goddy wants
wild extravagance; Rafael wants dignity and decorum. Who will win?
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