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Poetry in the mountains

October 26, 2013

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Some photos from our weekend in the Cascades.  I was reciting Frost and Eliot in my head, remembering another hike long ago with friends Kelly and Allegra and Rob and Allegra’s friend:  10 miles from Muir Woods to Stinson Beach and back, where Kelly and I tried to recite Eliot and Wordsworth and other poems to each other as we walked under the redwoods.

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Vermont, you always have my heart, but Washington also speaks to my spirit.

Mountains are giant, restful, absorbent. You can heave your spirit into a mountain, and the mountain will keep it, folded, and not throw it back as creeks will. The creeks are all the world with all its stimulus and beauty; I live there. But the mountains are home.

–Annie Dillard, from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

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Landscapes:  New Hampshire

–T.S. Eliot

Children’s voices in the orchard
Between the blossom- and the fruit-time:
Golden head, crimson head,
Between the green tip and the root.
Black wing, brown wing, hover over;
Twenty years and the spring is over;
To-day grieves, to-morrow grieves,
Cover me over, light-in-leaves;
Golden head, black wing,
Cling, swing,
Spring, sing,
Swing up into the apple-tree.

(I know this one is about spring, not fall, but I love the line “Cover me over, light-in-leaves”–sunlight through leaves is one of the most beautiful things I have seen.)

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

–Robert Frost

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Neal & BJ permalink
    October 27, 2013 1:10 pm

    Gorgeous pictures and poems! So glad y’all had a wonderful time.

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