First Known When Lost

We have previously considered the poetic possibilities of the humble swede . It is now time to turn our attention to the mangel (also known ...

It is time, dear readers, to pay our annual visit to "The Region November." This is the fourth time ("Time's winged chari...

This week has been clear and cold.  The night sky seems deeper, and the stars seem sharper.  That winter look.  No doubt things seem that wa...

Please bear with me:  I have decided to get these swede poems out of my system.  The two poems that follow have to do with the "dockin...

When I was young -- and innocent of both the world of agriculture and the world of vegetables (as I still mostly am) -- I believed that a ...

In terms of reading poetry, I've barely scratched the surface.  I'd guess I've read about 1% of the poetry that I would have lik...

For all of the heartbreaking personal anguish evident in Ivor Gurney's war poetry, what moves me most deeply in the poetry is his compas...

I have written before in praise of idleness.  One of my favorite apostrophes to idleness appears in George Gissing's The Private Papers ...

Over the weekend we had a strong wind-storm, and the trees have now lost most of their leaves.  I'm not inclined to hear voices when I a...

The following poem by Kathleen Raine has its source in a painting by Samuel Palmer.  I'm guessing that the painting she has in mind is t...