If you await the Daily readings with bated breath, sorry for the delay this morning.
Charles Wolfe born on this date in 1791.
- The Burial of Sir John Moore
- Andrew Hugh Clough’s In a Lecture-Room (below)
- Qua Sursum Ventue
- Frannie Sterns Davis’s Souls (below)
Copy “Davis’s Souls.” Paste. Search. Ah, The Internet.
That Infallible Source: Soul’s father, “Dr. Richard W. Solberg, was a Lutheran minister, professor of History and Political Science….” Soul’s younger sister, whose name escapes me, was also a musician. We played in several groups together, including the Lutheran Church string quartet, and our town’s symphony orchestra.
In a Lecture-Room
Away, haunt thou me not, Thou vain Philosophy! Little hast thou bestead, Save to perplex the head, And leave the spirit dead. Unto thy broken cisterns wherefore go, While from the secret treasure-depths below, Fed by the skyey shower, And clouds that sink and rest on hilltops high, Wisdom at once, and Power, Are welling, bubbling forth, unseen, incessantly? Why labor at the dull mechanic oar, When the fresh breeze is blowing, And the strong current flowing, Right onward to the Eternal Shore?
My Soul goes clad in gorgeous things, Scarlet and gold and blue; And at her shoulder sudden wings Like long flames flicker through. And she is swallow-fleet, and free From mortal bonds and bars. She laughs, because Eternity Blossoms for her with stars! O folk who scorn my stiff gray gown, My dull and foolish face,— Can ye not see my Soul flash down, A singing flame through space? And folk, whose earth-stained looks I hate, Why may I not divine Your Souls, that must be passionate, Shining and swift, as mine!