Day 5
A banana plant in the autumn vale-
I listen to the dripping of rain
Into a basin at night
by Matsuo Basho
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
Day 4
Ghost House
I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberry grow.
O're ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing fields;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
It is under the small, dim, summer star,
I know not who the mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me -
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.
They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad, -
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.
By Robert Frost
Ghost House
I dwell in a lonely house I know
That vanished many a summer ago,
And left no trace but the cellar walls,
And a cellar in which the daylight falls,
And the purple-stemmed wild raspberry grow.
O're ruined fences the grape-vines shield
The woods come back to the mowing fields;
The orchard tree has grown one copse
Of new wood and old where the woodpecker chops;
The footpath down to the well is healed.
I dwell with a strangely aching heart
In that vanished abode there far apart
On that disused and forgotten road
That has no dust-bath now for the toad.
Night comes; the black bats tumble and dart;
The whippoorwill is coming to shout
And hush and cluck and flutter about:
I hear him begin far enough away
full many a time to say his say
Before he arrives to say it out.
It is under the small, dim, summer star,
I know not who the mute folk are
Who share the unlit place with me -
Those stones out under the low-limbed tree
Doubtless bear names that the mosses mar.
They are tireless folk, but slow and sad,
Though two, close-keeping, are lass and lad, -
With none among them that ever sings,
And yet, in view of how many things,
As sweet companions as might be had.
By Robert Frost
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Day 3
Storm Fear
When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow
The lower chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
"Come out, Come out!"-
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road upgraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away
And my heart owns a doubt
Whether 'tis in us to arise with day
And save ourselves unaided.
by Robert Frost
Commentary: so winter has finally come to the fields and undulating mountains of Pennsylvania. Although it is late, I am still somehow caught off guard. I brace myself for many gray, short days.
Storm Fear
When the wind works against us in the dark,
And pelts with snow
The lower chamber window on the east,
And whispers with a sort of stifled bark,
The beast,
"Come out, Come out!"-
It costs no inward struggle not to go,
Ah, no!
I count our strength,
Two and a child,
Those of us not asleep subdued to mark
How the cold creeps as the fire dies at length,-
How drifts are piled,
Dooryard and road upgraded,
Till even the comforting barn grows far away
And my heart owns a doubt
Whether 'tis in us to arise with day
And save ourselves unaided.
by Robert Frost
Commentary: so winter has finally come to the fields and undulating mountains of Pennsylvania. Although it is late, I am still somehow caught off guard. I brace myself for many gray, short days.
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